« WHERE   ANGELS    FEAR   TO 
TREAD " 


"THE    PIRACY    WAS    COMPLETE. 


'WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR  TO 
TREAD"  *  &  AND  OTHER 
TALES  OF  THE  SEA  *  <$ 
BY  MORGAN  ROBERTSON 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  CENTURY  CO. 
NEW  YORK         *    <g?        M  CM  XX  I 


Copyright,  1899,  by 
.THE  CENTURY  Co. 


•  •  •  Gopylight",  1898,  by  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 
Copyright,  1898,  1899,  by  The  Curtis  Publishing  Co. 
Copyright,  1899,  by  Peter  F6nelon  Collier. 

Copyright,  1899,  by  Street  &  Smith. 

Copyright,  1897,  1898,  by  The  S.  S.  McClure  Co. 

Copyright,  1898,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


TO    ITS   GODFATHER 

JOHN   S.   PHILLIPS 

THIS    BOOK   IS   GRATEFULLY 
DEDICATED 


575591 


"  'Where  Angels  Fear  to  Tread'"  was  first 
published  in  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly  "  ;  "  Sal 
vage  "  in  the  "  Century  Magazine";  "The 
Brain  of  the  Battle-Ship,"  "  The  Wigwag  Mes 
sage,"  "Between  the  Millstones,"  and  "The 
Battle  of  the  Monsters,"  in  the  "  Saturday 
Evening  Post  "  ;  "  The  Trade-Wind  "  in  "  Col 
lier's  Weekly  "  ;  "  From  the  Royal- Yard  Down" 
in  "  Ainslee's  Magazine  "  ;  "  Needs  Must  when 
the  Devil  Drives"  and  "When  Greek  Meets 
Greek  "  in  McClure's  Syndicate  ;  and  "  Primor 
dial  "  in  "  Harper's  Monthly  Magazine." 

To  the  publishers  of  these  periodicals  I  am 
indebted  for  the  privilege  of  republishing  the 
stories  in  book  form. 

MORGAN  ROBERTSON. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

"  WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR  TO  TREAD"  .  .  .  .  i 
THE  BRAIN  OF  THE  BATTLE-SHIP  .  .  .  .  .  57 
THE  WIGWAG  MESSAGE  .  .  .  .  .  .  .88 

THE  TRADE-WIND in 

SALVAGE  .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .137 

BETWEEN  THE  MILLSTONES     .        .        .        .  .      170 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS 193 

FROM  THE  ROYAL-YARD  DOWN        .        .        .      .  ,        .213 

NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL  DRIVES       .        .        .233 
WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK    .        ...        .        .        .259 

PRIMORDIAL  .  ........  272 


"WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR  TO  TREAD" 


"WHERE    ANGELS    FEAR    TO 
TREAD " 


"  I  have  seen  wicked  men  and  fools,  a  great  many  of  each ;  and  I 
believe  they  both  get  paid  in  the  end,  but  the  fools  first." 

ROBERT  Louis  STEVENSON. 


PART  I 

/TAHE  first  man  to  climb  the  Almenas  side- 
A  ladder  from  the  tug  was  the  shipping- 
master,  and  after  him  came  the  crew  he  had 
shipped.  They  clustered  at  the  rail,  looking 
around  and  aloft  with  muttered  profane  com 
ments,  one  to  the  other,  while  the  shipping- 
master  approached  a  gray-eyed  giant  who 
stood  with  a  shorter  but  broader  man  at  the 
poop-deck  steps. 

"  Mr.  Jackson  —  the  mate  here,  I  s'pose  ?  " 
inquired  the  shipping-master.  A  nod  an 
swered  him.  "  I  Ve  brought  you  a  good 
crew,"  he  continued;  "  we  '11  just  tally  'em 
off,  and  then  you  can  sign  my  receipt.  The 
captain  '11  be  down  with  the  pilot  this  after 
noon." 

"  I  'm  the  mate  —  yes,"  said  the  giant ;  "  but 
what  dry-goods  store  did  you  raid  for  that 
crowd  ?  Did  the  captain  pick  'em  out  ?  " 


y*.      "  WHERE  \N.GELS  FEAR  TO  TREAD" 

:-:''iO  ";L:/\0 

"  A  delegation  o'  parsons,"   muttered  the 

short,  broad  man,  contemptuously. 

11  No,  they  're  not  parsons,"  said  the  ship 
ping-master,  as  he  turned  to  the  man,  the 
slightest  trace  of  a  smile  on  his  seamy  face. 
"You  're  Mr.  Becker,  the  second  mate,  I  take 
it;  you  '11  find  'em  all  right,  sir.  They  're 
sailors,  and  good  ones,  too.  No,  Mr.  Jackson, 
the  skipper  did  n't  pick  'em — just  asked  me 
for  sixteen  good  men,  and  there  you  are. 
Muster  up  to  the  capstan  here,  boys,"  he 
called,  "  and  be  counted." 

As  they  grouped  themselves  amidships  with 
their  clothes-bags,  the  shipping-master  beck 
oned  the  chief  mate  over  to  the  rail. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Jackson,"  he  said,  with  a 
backward  glance  at  the  men,  "I  Ve  only 
played  the  regular  dodge  on  'em.  They  Ve 
all  got  the  sailor's  bug  in  their  heads  and 
want  to  go  coasting ;  so  I  told  'em  this  was  a 
coaster." 

"  So  she  is,"  answered  the  officer;  "  round 
the  Horn  to  Callao  is  coasting.  What  more 
do  they  want  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  said  nothin'  of  Callao,  and  they 
were  all  three  sheets  i'  the  wind  when  they 
signed,  so  they  did  n't  notice  the  articles. 
They  expected  a  schooner,  too,  big  enough 
for  sixteen  men  ;  but  I  Ve  just  talked  'em  out 
of  that  notion.  They  think,  too,  that  they  '11 
have  a  week  in  port  to  see  if  they  like  the 
craft ;  and  to  make  'em  think  it  was  easy  to 


" WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD"          3 

quit,  I  told  'em  to  sign  nicknames  —  made 
'em  believe  that  a  wrong  name  on  the  articles 
voided  the  contract." 

"  But  it  don't.  They  're  here,  and  they  '11 
stay  —  that  is,  if  they  know  enough  to  man 
the  windlass." 

"  Of  course  —  of  course.  I  'm  just  givin' 
you  a  pointer.  You  may  have  to  run  them 
a  little  at  the  start,  but  that  's  easy.  Now 
we  '11  tally  'em  off.  Don't  mind  the  names ; 
they  '11  answer  to  'em.  You  see,  they  're  all 
townies,  and  bring  their  names  from  home." 

The  shipping-master  drew  a  large  paper 
from  his  pocket,  and  they  approached  the  men 
at  the  capstan,  where  the  short,  broad  second 
mate  had  been  taking  their  individual  mea 
sures  with  scowling  eye. 

It  was  a  strange  crew  for  the  forecastle  of 
an  outward-bound,  deep-water  American  ship. 
Mr.  Jackson  looked  in  vain  for  the  heavy, 
foreign  faces,  the  greasy  canvas  jackets  and 
blanket  trousers  he  was  accustomed  to  see. 
Not  that  these  men  seemed  to  be  landsmen  — 
each  carried  in  his  face  and  bearing  the  inde 
finable  something  by  which  sailors  of  all  races 
may  distinguish  each  other  at  a  glance  from 
fishermen,  tugmen,  and  deck-hands.  They 
were  all  young  men,  and  their  intelligent 
faces  —  blemished  more  or  less  with  marks 
of  overnight  dissipation  —  were  as  sunburnt 
as  were  those  of  the  two  mates  ;  and  where  a 
hand  could  be  seen,  it  showed  as  brown  and 


4          "WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR   TO  TREAD" 

tarry  as  that  of  the  ablest  able  seaman. 
There  were  no  chests  among  them,  but  the 
canvas  clothes-bags  were  the  genuine  article, 
and  they  shouldered  and  handled  them  as  only 
sailors  can.  Yet,  aside  from  these  externals, 
they  gave  no  sign  of  being  anything  but  well- 
paid,  well-fed,  self-respecting  citizens,  who 
would  read  the  papers,  discuss  politics,  raise 
families,  and  drink  more  than  is  good  on  pay- 
nights,  to  repent  at  church  in  the  morning. 
The  hands  among  them  that  were  hidden  were 
covered  with  well-fitting  gloves — kid  or  dog 
skin  ;  all  wore  white  shirts  and  fashionable 
neckwear ;  their  shoes  were  polished  ;  their 
hats  were  in  style ;  and  here  and  there, 
where  an  unbuttoned,  silk-faced  overcoat  ex 
posed  the  garments  beneath,  could  be  seen  a 
gold  watch-chain  with  tasteful  charm. 

"  Now,  boys,"  said  the  shipping-master, 
cheerily,  as  he  unfolded  the  articles  on  the 
capstan-head,  "  answer,  and  step  over  to 
starboard  as  I  read  your  names.  Ready? 
Tosser  Galvin." 

"  Here."  A  man  carried  his  bag  across 
the  deck  a  short  distance. 

"  Bigpig  Monahan."  Another  —  as  large 
a  man  as  the  mate  —  answered  and  followed. 

"  Moccasey  Gill." 

"  Good  God !  "  muttered  the  mate,  as  this 
man  responded. 

"  Sinful  Peck."  An  undersized  man,  with 
a  cultivated  blond  mustache,  lifted  his  hat 


" WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"  5 

politely  to  Mr.  Jackson,  disclosing  a  smooth, 
bald  head,  and  passed  over,  smiling  sweetly. 
Whatever  his  character,  his  name  belied  his 
appearance ;  for  his  face  was  cherubic  in  its 
innocence. 

"Say,"  interrupted  the  mate,  angrily, 
"  what  kind  of  a  game  is  this,  anyhow  ?  Are 
these  men  sailors  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  the  shipping-master, 
hurriedly  ;  "  you  '11  find  'em  all  right.  And, 
Sinful,"  he  added,  as  he  frowned  reprovingly 
at  the  last  man  named,  "don't  you  get  gay 
till  my  receipt 's  signed  and  I  'm  clear  of  you." 

Mr.  Jackson  wondered,  but  subsided ;  and, 
each  name  bringing  forth  a  response,  the 
reader  called  off:  "  Seldom  Helward,  Shiner 
O'Toole,  Senator  Sands,  Jump  Black,  Yam- 
paw  Gallagher,  Sorry  Welch,  Yorker  Jimson, 
General  Lannigan,  Turkey  Twain,  Gunner 
Meagher,  Ghost  O'Brien,  and  Poop-deck 
Cahill." 

Then  the  astounded  Mr.  Jackson  broke 
forth  profanely.  "  I  've  been  shipmates,"  he 
declared  between  oaths,  "  with  freak  names 
of  all  nations  ;  but  this  gang  beats  me.  Say, 
you,"  he  called, — "you  with  the  cro'-jack  eye 
there, —  what 's  that  name  you  go  by  ?  Who 
are  you  ?  "  He  spoke  to  the  large  man  who 
had  answered  to  "  Bigpig  Monahan,"  and 
who  suffered  from  a  slight  distortion  of  one 
eye ;  but  the  man,  instead  of  civilly  repeating 
his  name,  answered  curtly  and  coolly  : 


6          "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

"  I  'm  the  man  that  struck  Billy  Patterson." 
Fully  realizing  that  the  mate  who  hesitates 
is  lost,  and  earnestly  resolved  to  rebuke  this 
man  as  his  insolence  required,  Mr.  Jackson 
had  secured  a  belaying-pin  and  almost 
reached  him,  when  he  found  himself  looking 
into  the  bore  of  a  pistol  held  by  the  shipping- 
master. 

"Now,  stop  this,"  said  the  latter,  firmly; 
"stop  it  right  here,  Mr.  Jackson.  These 
men  are  under  my  care  till  you  've  signed  my 
receipt.  After  that  you  can  do  as  you  like  ; 
but  if  you  touch  one  of  them  before  you  sign, 
I  '11  have  you  up  'fore  the  commissioner. 
And  you  fellers,"  he  said  over  his  shoulder, 
"you  keep  still  and  be  civil  till  I  'm  rid  of 
you.  I  Ve  used  you  well,  got  your  berths, 
and  charged  you  nothin'.  All  I  wanted  was 
to  get  Cappen  Benson  the  right  kind  of  a 


crew." 


"  Let  's  see  that  receipt,"  snarled  the  mate. 
"  Put  that  gun  up,  too,  or  I  '11  show  you 
one  of  my  own.  I  '11  tend  to  your  good  men 
when  you  get  ashore."  He  glared  at  the 
quiescent  Bigpig,  and  followed  the  shipping- 
master —  who  still  held  his  pistol  ready,  how 
ever — over  to  the  rail,  where  the  receipt  was 
produced  and  signed. 

"Away  you  go,  now,"  said  the  mate;  "you 
and  your  gun.  Get  over  the  side." 

The  shipping-master  did  not  answer  until 
he  had  scrambled  down  to  the  waiting  tug 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"          7 

and  around  to  the  far  side  of  her  deck-house. 
There,  ready  to  dodge,  he  looked  up  at  the 
mate  with  a  triumphant  grin  on  his  shrewd 
face,  and  called : 

"  Say,  Mr.  Jackson,  'member  the  old  bark 
Fair  Wind  ten  years  ago,  and  the  ordinary 
seaman  you  triced  up  and  skinned  alive  with  a 
deck-scraper?  D'  you  'member,  curse  you? 
'Member  breakin'  the  same  boy's  arm  with  a 
heaver?  You  do,  don't  you?  I 'm  him.  'Mem 
ber  me  sayin'  I  'd  get  square  ?  " 

He  stepped  back  to  avoid  the  whirling  be- 
laying-pin  sent  by  the  mate,  which,  rebound 
ing,  only  smashed  a  window  in  the  pilot-house. 
Then,  amid  an  exchange  of  blasphemous  dis 
approval  between  Mr.  Jackson  and  the  tug 
captain,  and  derisive  jeers  from  the  shipping- 
master, —  who  also  averred  that  Mr.  Jackson 
ought  to  be  shot,  but  was  not  worth  hang 
ing  for,  —  the  tug  gathered  in  her  lines  and 
steamed  away. 

Wrathful  of  soul,  Mr.  Jackson  turned  to 
the  men  on  the  deck.  They  had  changed 
their  position ;  they  were  now  close  to  the 
fife-rail  at  the  mainmast,  surrounding  Big- 
pig  Monahan  (for  by  their  names  we  must 
know  them),  who,  with  an  injured  expression 
of  face,  was  shedding  outer  garments  and 
voicing  his  opinion  of  Mr.  Jackson,  which  the 
others  answered  by  nods  and  encouraging 
words.  He  had  dropped  a  pair  of  starched 
cuffs  over  a  belaying-pin,  and  was  rolling  up 


8          " WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD" 

his  shirt-sleeve,  showing  an  arm  as  large  as  a 
small  man's  leg,  and  the  mate  was  just  about 
to  interrupt  the  discourse,  when  the  second 
mate  called  his  name.  Turning,  he  beheld 
him  beckoning  violently  from  the  cabin 
companionway,  and  joined  him. 

"  Got  your  gun,  Mr.  Jackson  ? "  asked 
the  second  officer,  anxiously,  as  he  drew 
him  within  the  door.  "  I  started  for  mine 
when  the  shippin'-master  pulled.  I  can't 
make  that  crowd  out ;  but  they  Ye  lookin' 
for  fight,  that  's  plain.  When  you  were  at 
the  rail  they  were  sayin':  'Soak  him,  Bigpig.' 
'  Paste  him,  Bigpig.'  '  Put  a  head  on  him.' 
They  might  be  a  lot  o'  prize-fighters." 

Mr.  Becker  was  not  afraid;  his  position 
and  duties  forbade  it.  He  was  simply  human, 
and  confronted  with  a  new  problem. 

"  Don't  care  a  rap  what  they  are,"  answered 
the  mate,  who  was  sufficiently  warmed  up  to 
welcome  any  problem.  They  '11  get  fight 
enough.  We  '11  overhaul  their  dunnage  first 
for  whisky  and  knives,  then  turn  them  to. 
Come  on  —  I  'm  heeled." 

They  stepped  out  and  advanced  to  the 
capstan  amidships,  each  with  a  hand  in  his 
trousers  pocket. 

"  Pile  those  bags  against  the  capstan  here, 
and  go  forrard,"  ordered  the  mate,  in  his  most 
officer-like  tone. 

"  Go  to  the  devil,"  they  answered.  "  What 
for? — they  're  our  bags,  not  yours.  Who  in 


"WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD"          9 

Sam  Hill  are  you,  anyhow?  What  are  you? 
You  talk  like  a  p'liceman." 

Before  this  irreverence  could  be  replied  to 
Bigpig  Monahan  advanced. 

"  Look  here,  old  horse,"  he  said ;  "  I  don't 
know  whether  you  're  captain  or  mate,  or 
owner  or  cook ;  and  I  don't  care,  either.  You 
had  somethin'  to  say  'bout  my  eyes  just 
now.  Nature  made  my  eyes,  and  I  can't  help 
how  they  look  ;  but  I  don't  allow  any  big  bull 
heads  to  make  remarks  'bout  'em.  You  're 
spoilin'  for  somethin'.  Put  up  your  hands." 
He  threw  himself  into  an  aggressive  attitude, 
one  mighty  fist  within  six  inches  of  Mr.  Jack 
son's  face. 

"  Go  forrard,"  roared  the  officer,  his  gray 
eyes  sparkling ;  "  forrard,  all  o'  you  !  " 

"We  '11  settle  this;  then  we  '11  go  forrard. 
There  '11  be  fair  play ;  these  men  '11  see  to 
that.  You  '11  only  have  me  to  handle.  Put 
up." 

Mr.  Jackson  did  not  "  put  up."  He  re 
peated  again  his  order  to  go  forward,  and  was 
struck  on  the  nose  —  not  a  hard  blow ;  just 
a  preliminary  tap,  which  started  blood.  He 
immediately  drew  his  pistol  and  shot  the  man, 
who  fell  with  a  groan. 

An  expression  of  shock  and  horror  over 
spread  every  face  among  the  crew,  and  they 
surged  back,  away  from  that  murderous  pis 
tol.  A  momentary  hesitance  followed,  then 
horror  gave  way  to  furious  rage,  and  carnage 


io        "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

began.  Coats  and  vests  were  flung  off,  be- 
laying-pins  and  capstan-bars  seized  ;  inarticu 
late,  half-uttered  imprecations  punctuated  by 
pistol  reports  drowned  the  storm  of  abuse 
with  which  the  mates  justified  the  shot,  and 
two  distinct  bands  of  men  swayed  and  zig 
zagged  about  the  deck,  the  center  of  each  an 
officer  fighting  according  to  his  lights — shoot 
ing  as  he  could  between  blows  of  fists  and 
clubs.  Then  the  smoke  of  battle  thinned, 
and  two  men  with  sore  heads  and  bleeding 
faces  retreated  painfully  and  hurriedly  to  the 
cabin,  followed  by  snarling  maledictions  and 
threats. 

It  was  hardly  a  victory  for  either  side. 
The  pistols  were  empty  and  the  fight  taken 
out  of  the  mates  for  a  time  ;  and  on  the  deck 
lay  three  moaning  men,  while  two  others 
clung  to  the  fife-rail,  draining  blood  from 
limp,  hanging  arms.  But  eleven  sound  and 
angry  men  were  left  —  and  the  officers  had 
more  ammunition.  They  entered  their  rooms, 
mopped  their  faces  with  wet  towels,  reloaded 
the  firearms,  pocketed  the  remaining  car 
tridges,  and  returned  to  the  deck,  the  mate 
carrying  a  small  ensign. 

"  We  '11  run  it  up  to  the  main,  Becker,"  he 
said  thickly, —  for  he  suffered, — ignoring  in  his 
excitement  the  etiquette  of  the  quarter-deck. 

"Aye,  aye,"  said  the  other,  equally  un 
mindful  of  his  breeding.  "  Will  we  go  for  'em 
again  ? "  The  problem  had  defined  itself  to 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"         u 

Mr.  Becker.  These  men  would  fight,  but 
not  shoot. 

"  No,  no,"  answered  the  mate  ;  "  not  unless 
they  go  for  us  and  it 's  self-defense.  They  Ye 
not  sailors  —  they  don't  know  where  they 
are.  We  don't  want  to  get  into  trouble. 
Sailors  don't  act  that  way.  We  '11  wait  for 
the  captain  or  the  police."  Which,  inter 
preted,  and  plus  the  slight  shade  of  anxiety 
showing  in  his  disfigured  face,  meant  that 
Mr.  Jackson  was  confronted  with  a  new  phase 
of  the  problem :  as  to  how  much  more  unsafe 
it  might  be  to  shoot  down,  on  the  deck  of  a 
ship,  men  who  did  not  know  where  they  were, 
than  to  shoot  down  sailors  who  did.  So, 
while  the  uninjured  men  were  assisting  the 
wounded  five  into  the  forecastle,  the  police 
flag  was  run  up  to  the  main-truck,  and  the  two 
mates  retired  to  the  poop  to  wait  and  watch. 

In  a  few  moments  the  eleven  men  came  aft 
in  a  body,  empty-handed,  however,  and  evi 
dently  with  no  present  hostile  intention :  they 
had  merely  come  for  their  clothes.  But  that 
dunnage  had  not  been  searched  ;  and  in  it 
might  be  all  sorts  of  dangerous  weapons  and 
equally  dangerous  whisky,  the  possession  of 
which  could  bring  an  unpleasant  solution  to 
the  problem.  So  Mr.  Jackson  and  Mr. 
Becker  leveled  their  pistols  over  the  poop- 
rail,  and  the  chief  mate  roared :  "  Let  those 
things  alone  —  let  'em  alone,  or  we  '11  drop 
some  more  o'  you." 


12         "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

The  men  halted,  hesitated,  and  sullenly  re 
turned  to  the  forecastle. 

"  Guess  they  Ve  had  enough,"  said  Mr. 
Becker,  jubilantly. 

"  Don't  fool  yourself.  They  're  not  used  to 
blood-letting,  that  's  all.  If  it  was  n't  for  my 
wife  and  the  kids  I  'd  lower  the  dinghy  and 
jump  her;  and  it  is  n't  them  I  'd  run  from, 
either.  As  it  is,  I  Ve  half  a  mind  to  haul 
down  the  flag,  and  let  the  old  man  settle  it. 
Steward,"  he  called  to  a  mild-faced  man  who 
had  been  flitting  from  galley  to  cabin,  un 
mindful  of  the  disturbance,  "  go  forrard  and 
find  out  how  bad  those  fellows  are  hurt. 
Don't  say  I  sent  you,  though." 

The  steward  obeyed,  and  returned  with 
the  information  that  two  men  had  broken 
arms,  two  flesh-wounds  in  the  legs,  and  one — 
the  big  man  —  suffered  from  a  ragged  hole 
through  the  shoulder.  All  were  stretched 
out  in  bedless  bunks,  unwilling  to  move.  He 
had  been  asked  numerous  questions  by  the 
others  —  as  to  where  the  ship  was  bound, 
who  the  men  were  who  had  shot  them,  why 
there  was  no  bedding  in  the  forecastle,  the 
captain's  whereabouts,  and  the  possibility  of 
getting  ashore  to  swear  out  warrants.  He 
had  also  been  asked  for  bandages  and  hot 
water,  which  he  requested  permission  to 
supply,  as  the  wounded  men  were  suffering 
greatly.  This  permission  was  refused,  and 
the  slight  —  very  slight  —  nautical  flavor  to 


"WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD"        13 

the  queries,  and  the  hopeful  condition  of  the 
stricken  ones,  decided  Mr.  Jackson  to  leave 
the  police  flag  at  the  masthead. 

When  dinner  was  served  in  the  cabin,  and 
Mr.  Jackson  sat  down  before  a  savory  roast, 
leaving  Mr.  Becker  on  deck  to  watch,  the 
steward  imparted  the  additional  information 
that  the  men  forward  expected  to  eat  in  the 
cabin. 

"  Hang  it! "  he  mused ;  "they  can't  be  sailor- 
men." 

Then  Mr.  Becker  reached  his  head  down 
the  skylight,  and  said  :  "  Raisin'  the  devil  with 
the  cook,  sir  —  dragged  him  out  o'  the  galley 
into  the  forecastle." 

"  Are  they  coming  aft  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  All  right.     Watch  out." 

The  mate  went  on  eating,  and  the  steward 
hurried  forward  to  learn  the  fate  of  his  as 
sistant.  He  did  not  return  until  Mr.  Jackson 
was  about  to  leave  the  cabin.  Then  he  came, 
with  a  wry  face  and  disgust  in  his  soul,  com 
plaining  that  he  had  been  seized,  hustled  into 
the  forecastle,  and  compelled,  with  the  Chinese 
cook,  to  eat  of  the  salt  beef  and  pea-soup 
prepared  for  the  men,  which  lay  untouched  by 
them.  In  spite  of  his  aches  and  trouble  of 
mind,  Mr.  Jackson  was  moved  to  a  feeble  grin. 

"Takes  a  sailor  or  a  hog  to  eat  it,  hey, 
Steward  ?  "  he  said. 

He  relieved  Mr.  Becker,  who  ate  his  din- 


14         " WHERE   ANGELS  FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

ner  hurriedly,  as  became  a  good  second  mate, 
and  the  two  resumed  their  watch  on  the  poop, 
noticing  that  the  cook  was  jabbering  Chinese 
protest  in  the  galley,  and  that  the  men  had 
climbed  to  the  topgallant-forecastle  —  also 
watching,  and  occasionally  waving  futile  sig 
nals  to  passing  tugs  or  small  sailing-craft.  They, 
too,  might  have  welcomed  the  police  boat. 

But,  either  because  the  Almena  lay  too 
far  over  on  the  Jersey  flats  for  the  flag  to  be 
noticed,  or  because  harbor  police  share  the 
fallibility  of  their  shore  brethren  in  being 
elsewhere  when  wanted,  no  shiny  black 
steamer  with  blue-coated  guard  appeared  to 
investigate  the  trouble,  and  it  was  well  on 
toward  three  o'clock  before  a  tug  left  the 
beaten  track  to  the  eastward  and  steamed 
over  to  the  ship.  The  officers  took  her  lines 
as  she  came  alongside,  and  two  men  climbed 
the  side-ladder — one,  a  Sandy  Hook  pilot, 
who  need  not  be  described ;  the  other,  the 
captain  of  the  ship. 

Captain  Benson,  in  manner  and  appearance, 
was  as  superior  to  the  smooth-shaven  and 
manly-looking  Mr.  Jackson  as  the  latter  was 
to  the  misformed,  hairy,  and  brutal  second 
mate.  With  his  fashionably  cut  clothing, 
steady  blue  eye,  and  refined  features,  he  could 
have  been  taken  for  an  easy-going  club-man 
or  educated  army  officer  rather  than  the  mas 
ter  of  a  working-craft.  Yet  there  was  no 
lack  of  seamanly  decision  in  the  leap  he  made 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"         15 

from  the  rail  to  the  deck,  or  in  the  tone  of 
his  voice  as  he  demanded  : 

"  What  's  the  police  flag  up  for,  Mr. 
Jackson  ?  " 

"  Mutiny,  sir.  They  started  in  to  lick  me 
'fore  turning  to,  and  we  've  shot  five,  but  none 
of  them  fatally." 

"  Lower  that  flag — at  once." 

Mr.  Becker  obeyed  this  order,  and  as  the 
flag  fluttered  down  the  captain  received  an 
account  of  the  crew's  misdoing  from  the  mate. 
He  stepped  into  his  cabin,  and  returning  with 
a  double-barreled  shot-gun,  leaned  it  against 
the  booby-hatch,  and  said  quietly :  "  Call  all 
hands  aft  who  can  come." 

Mr.  Jackson  delivered  the  order  in  a  roar, 
and  the  eleven  men  forward,  who  had  been 
watching  the  newcomers  from  the  forecastle- 
deck,  straggled  aft  and  clustered  near  the  cap 
stan,  all  of  them  hatless  and  coatless,  shivering 
palpably  in  the  keen  December  air.  With  no 
flinching  of  their  eyes,  they  stared  at  Captain 
Benson  and  the  pilot. 

"  Now,  men,"  said  the  captain,  "what  's 
this  trouble  about  ?  What  's  the  matter  ?  " 

"Are  you  the  captain  here?"  asked  a  red- 
haired,  Roman-nosed  man,  as  he  stepped  out 
of  the  group.  "  There  's  matter  enough.  We 
ship  for  a  run  down  to  Rio  Janeiro  and  back 
in  a  big  schooner  ;  and  here  we  're  put  aboard 
a  square-rigged  craft,  that  we  don't  know  any 
thing  about,  bound  for  Callao,  and  'fore  we  're 


16         "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

here  ten  minutes  we  're  howled  at  and  shot. 
Bigpig  Monahan  thinks  he  's  goin'  to  die ; 
he  's  bleedin'- —  they  're  all  bleedin',  like  stuck 
pigs.  Sorry  Welch  and  Turkey  Twain  ha' 
got  broken  arms,  and  Jump  Black  and  Ghost 
O'Brien  got  it  in  the  legs  and  can't  stand  up. 
What  kind  o'  work  is  this,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  That's  perfectly  right.  You  were  shot 
for  assaulting  my  officers.  Do  you  call  your 
selves  able  seamen,  and  say  you  know  nothing 
about  square-rigged  craft  ?  " 

"  We  're  able  seamen  on  the  Lakes.  We 
can  get  along  in  schooners.  That 's  what  we 
came  down  for." 

Captain  Benson's  lips  puckered,  and  he 
whistled  softly.  "The  Lakes,"  he  said  — 
"  lake  sailors.  What  part  of  the  Lakes  ?  " 

"  Oswego.     We  're  all  union  men." 

The  captain  took  a  turn  or  two  along  the 
deck,  then  faced  them,  and  said  :  "  Men,  I  've 
been  fooled  as  well  as  you.  I  would  not  have 
an  Oswego  sailor  aboard  my  ship — much  less 
a  whole  crew  of  them.  You  may  know  your 
work  up  there,  but  are  almost  useless  here 
until  you  learn.  Although  I  paid  five  dollars 
a  man  for  you,  I  'd  put  you  ashore  and  ship  a 
new  crew  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  five 
wounded  men  going  out  of  this  ship  requires 
explanations,  which  would  delay  my  sailing 
and  incur  expense  to  my  owners.  However, 
I  give  you  the  choice — to  go  to  sea,  and  learn 
your  work  under  the  mates,  or  go  to  jail  as 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD"         17 

mutineers  ;  for  to  protect  my  officers  I  must 
prosecute  you  all." 

"  S'pose  we  do  neither  ?  " 

"  You  will  probably  be  shot  —  to  the  last 
resisting  man  —  either  by  us  or  the  harbor 
police.  You  are  up  against  the  law." 

They  looked  at  each  other  with  varying 
expressions  on  their  faces ;  then  one  asked : 
"What  about  the  bunks  in  the  forecastle? 
There  's  no  bedding." 

11  If  you  failed  to  bring  your  own,  you  will 
sleep  on  the  bunk-boards  without  it." 

"  And  that  swill  the  Chinaman  cooked  at 
dinner-time  —  what  about  that  ?  " 

"  You  will  get  the  allowance  of  provisions 
provided  bylaw  —  no  more.  And  you  will 
eat  it  in  the  forecastle.  Also,  if  you  have 
neglected  to  bring  pots,  pans,  and  spoons,  you 
will  very  likely  eat  it  with  your  fingers.  This 
is  not  a  lake  vessel,  where  sailors  eat  at  the 
cabin  table,  with  knives  and  forks.  Decide 
this  matter  quickly." 

The  captain  began  pacing  the  deck,  and 
the  listening  pilot  stepped  forward,  and  said 
kindly  :  "  Take  my  advice,  boys,  and  go  along. 
You  're  in  for  it  if  you  don't." 

They  thanked  him  with  their  eyes  for  the 
sympathy,  conferred  together  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  then  their  spokesman  called  out : 
"We  '11  leave  it  to  the  fellers  forrard,  captain  "; 
and  forward  they  trooped.  In  five  minutes 
they  were  back,  with  resolution  in  their  faces. 


i8        "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD" 

"We  '11  go,  captain,"  their  leader  said. 
"  Bigpig  can't  be  moved  'thout  killin'  him, 
and  says  if  he  lives  he  '11  follow  your  mate 
to  hell  but  he  '11  pay  him  back  ;  and  the 
others  talk  the  same ;  and  we  '11  stand  by 
'em  —  we  '11  square  up  this  day's  work." 

Captain  Benson  brought  his  walk  to  a  stop 
close  to  the  shot-gun.  "  Very  well,  that  is 
your  declaration,"  he  said,  his  voice  dropping 
the  conversational  tone  he  had  assumed,  and 
taking  on  one  more  in  accordance  with  his 
position;  "now  I  will  deliver  mine.  We  sail 
at  once  for  Callao  and  back  to  an  American 
port  of  discharge.  You  know  your  wages  — 
fourteen  dollars  a  month.  I  am  master  of 
this  ship,  responsible  to  my  owners  and  the 
law  for  the  lives  of  all  on  board.  And  this 
responsibility  includes  the  right  to  take  the 
life  of  a  mutineer.  You  have  been  such,  but  I 
waive  the  charge  considering  your  ignorance 
of  salt-water  custom  and  your  agreement  to 
start  anew.  The  law  defines  your  allowance 
of  food,  but  not  your  duties  or  your  working- 
and  sleeping-time.  That  is  left  to  the  dis 
cretion  of  your  captain  and  officers.  Prece 
dent —  the  decision  of  the  courts  —  has  de 
cided  the  privilege  of  a  captain  or  officer  to 
punish  insolence  or  lack  of  respect  from  a 
sailor  with  a  blow  —  of  a  fist  or  missile  ;  but, 
understand  me  now,  a  return  of  the  blow 
makes  that  man  a  mutineer,  and  his  prompt 
killing  is  justified  by  the  law  of  the  land.  Is 
this  plain  to  you  ?  You  are  here  to  answer 


"WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD"        19 

and  obey  orders  respectfully,  adding  the  word 
'  sir '  to  each  response ;  you  are  never  to  go 
to  windward  of  an  officer,  or  address  him  by 
name  without  the  prefix  '  Mr.' ;  and  you  are 
to  work  civilly  and  faithfully,  resenting  nothing 
said  to  you  until  you  are  discharged  in  an 
American  port  at  the  end  of  the  voyage.  A 
failure  in  this  will  bring  you  prompt  punish 
ment  ;  and  resentment  of  this  punishment  on 
your  part  will  bring  —  death.  Mr.  Jackson," 
he  concluded,  turning  to  his  first  officer, 
"  overhaul  their  dunnage,  turn  them  to,  and 
man  the  windlass." 

A  man  —  the  bald-headed  Sinful  Peck  — 
sprang  forward  ;  but  his  face  was  not  cherubic 
now.  His  blue  eyes  blazed  with  emotion 
much  in  keeping  with  his  sobriquet ;  and, 
raising  his  hand,  the  nervously  crooking  fin 
gers  of  which  made  it  almost  a  fist,  he  said, 
in  a  voice  explosively  strident : 

"  That  's  all  right.  That  's  your  say. 
You  've  described  the  condition  o'  nigger 
slaves,  not  American  voters.  And  I  '11  tell 
you  one  thing,  right  here —  I  'm  a  free-born 
citizen.  I  know  my  work,  and  can  do  it, 
without  bein'  cursed  and  abused;  and  if  you 
or  your  mates  rub  my  fur  the  wrong  way  I  'm 
goin'  to  claw  back ;  and  if  I  'm  shot,  you  want 
to  shoot  sure ;  for  if  you  don't,  I  '11  kill  that 
man,  if  I  have  to  lash  my  knife  to  a  broom- 
handle,  and  prod  him  through  his  window 
when  he  's  asleep." 

But  alas  for  Sinful  Peck !     He  had  barely 


20        "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

finished  his  defiance  when  he  fell  like  a  log 
under  the  impact  of  the  big  mate's  fist ;  then, 
while  the  pilot,  turning  his  back  on  the  pain 
ful  scene,  walked  aft,  nodding  and  shaking 
his  head,  and  the  captain's  strong  language 
and  leveled  shot-gun  induced  the  men  to 
an  agitated  acquiescence,  the  two  officers 
kicked  and  stamped  upon  the  little  man 
until  consciousness  left  him.  Before  he  re 
covered  he  had  been  ironed  to  a  stanchion  in 
the  'tween-deck,  and  entered  in  the  captain's 
official  log  for  threatening  life.  And  by  this 
time  the  dunnage  had  been  searched,  a  few 
sheath-knives  tossed  overboard,  and  the  re 
maining  ten  men  were  moodily  heaving  in  the 
chain. 

And  so,  with  a  crippled  crew  of  schooner 
sailors,  the  square-rigger  Almena  was  towed 
to  sea,  smoldering  rebellion  in  one  end  of  her, 
the  power  of  the  law  in  the  other  —  murder 
in  the  heart  of  every  man  on  board. 


PART    II 

FIVE  months  later  the  Almena  lay  at  an 
outer  mooring-buoy  in  Callao  Roads,  again 
ready  for  sea,  but  waiting.  With  her  at  the 
anchorage  were  representatives  of  most  of 
the  maritime  nations.  English  ships  and 
barks  with  painted  ports  and  spider-web 
braces,  high-sided,  square- stern ed  American 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"        21 

half-clippers,  clumsy,  square-bowed  "  Dutch 
men,"  coasting-brigs  of  any  nation,  lumber- 
schooners  from  "  'Frisco,"  hide-carriers  from 
Valparaiso,  pearl-boats  and  fishermen,  and 
even  a  couple  of  homesick  Malay  proas  from 
the  west  crowded  the  roadstead ;  for  the 
guano  trade  was  booming,  and  Callao  pros 
perous.  Nearly  every  type  of  craft  known 
to  sailors  was  there  ;  but  the  postman  and 
the  policeman  of  the  seas  —  the  coastwise 
mail-steamer  and  the  heavily  sparred  man-of- 
war  —  were  conspicuously  absent.  The  Pa 
cific  Mail  boat  would  not  arrive  for  a  week,  and 
the  last  cruiser  had  departed  two  days  before. 

Beyond  the  faint  land-  and  sea-breeze,  there 
was  no  wind  nor  promise  of  it  for  several 
days ;  and  Captain  Benson,  though  properly 
cleared  at  the  custom-house  for  New  York, 
was  in  no  hurry,  and  had  taken  advantage  of 
the  delay  to  give  a  dinner  to  some  captains 
with  whom  he  had  fraternized  on  shore. 
"  I  Ve  a  first-rate  steward,"  he  had  told  them, 
"  and  I  '11  treat  you  well ;  and  I  Ve  the  best- 
trained  crew  that  ever  went  to  sea.  Come, 
all  of  you,  and  bring  your  first  officers.  I 
want  to  give  you  an  object-lesson  on  the  influ 
ence  of  matter  over  mind  that  you  can't  learn 
in  the  books." 

So  they  came,  at  half-past  eleven,  in  their 
own  ships'  dinghies,  which  were  sent  back 
with  orders  to  return  at  nightfall  —  six  big- 
fisted,  more  or  less  fat  captains,  and  six  big- 


22        "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

fisted,  beetle-browed,  and  embarrassed  chief 
mates.  As  they  climbed  the  gangway  they 
were  met  and  welcomed  by  Captain  Benson, 
who  led  them  to  the  poop,  the  only  dry  and 
clean  part  of  the  ship  ;  for  the  Almenas  crew 
were  holystoning  the  main-deck,  and  as  this 
operation  consists  in  grinding  off  the  oiled 
surface  of  the  planks  with  sandstone,  the  re 
sulting  slime  of  sand,  oily  wood-pulp,  and  salt 
water  made  walking  unpleasant,  as  well  as  be 
ing  very  hard  on  polished  shoe-leather.  But 
in  this  filthy  slime  the  men  were  on  their  knees, 
working  the  six-inch  blocks  of  stone,  techni 
cally  called  "  bibles,"  back  and  forth  with 
about  the  speed  and  motion  of  an  energetic 
woman  over  a  wash-board. 

The  mates  also  were  working.  With  legs 
clad  in  long  rubber  boots,  they  filled  buckets 
at  the  deck-pump  and  scattered  water  around 
where  needed,  occasionally  throwing  the  whole 
bucketful  at  a  doubtful  spot  on  the  deck  to 
expose  it  to  criticism.  As  the  visitors  lined 
up  against  the  monkey-rail  and  looked  down 
on  the  scene,  Mr.  Becker  launched  such  a 
bucketful  as  only  a  second  mate  can  —  and 
a  man  who  happened  to  be  in  the  way  was 
rolled  over  by  the  unexpected  impact.  He 
gasped  a  little  louder  than  might  have  been 
necessary,  and  the  wasting  of  the  bucketful 
of  water  having  forced  Mr.  Becker  to  make 
an  extra  trip  to  the  pump,  the  officer  was 
duly  incensed. 


"WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR   TO   TREAD"        23 

"  Get  out  o'  the  way,  there,"  he  bawled, 
eying  the  man  sternly.  "  What  are  you 
gruntin'  at  ?  A  little  water  won't  hurt  you  — 
soap  neither." 

He  went  to  the  pump  for  more  water,  and 
the  man  crawled  back  to  his  holystone.  It 
was  Bigpig  Monahan,  hollow-eyed  and  thin, 
slow  in  his  voluntary  movements  ;  minus  his 
look  of  injury,  too,  as  though  he  might  have 
welcomed  the  bowling  over  as  a  momentary 
respite  for  his  aching  muscles. 

Now  and  then,  when  the  officers'  faces  were 
partly  turned,  a  man  would  stop,  rise  erect  on 
his  knees,  and  bend  backward.  A  man  may 
work  a  holystone  much  longer  and  press  it 
much  harder  on  the  deck  for  these  occasional 
stretchings  of  contracted  tissue ;  but  the  two 
mates  chose  to  ignore  this  physiological  fact, 
and  a  moment  later,  a  little  man,  caught  in 
the  act  by  Mr.  Jackson,  was  also  rolled  over 
on  his  back,  not  by  a  bucket  of  water,  but  by 
the  boot  of  the  mate,  who  uttered  words  suit 
able  to  the  occasion,  and  held  his  hand  in  his 
pocket  until  the  little  man,  grinning  with 
rage,  had  resumed  his  work. 

"  There,"  said  Captain  Benson  to  his  guests 
on  the  poop  ;  "see  that  little  devil !  See  him 
show  his  teeth !  That  is  Mr.  Sinful  Peck. 
I  Ve  had  him  in  irons  with  a  broken  head  five 
times,  and  the  log  is  full  of  him.  I  towed  him 
over  the  stern  running  down  the  trades  to 
take  the  cussedness  out  of  him,  and  if  he  had 


24        "WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD" 

not  been  born  for  higher  things,  he  'd  have 
drowned.  He  was  absolutely  unconquerable 
until  I  found  him  telling  his  beads  one  time 
in  irons  and  took  them  away  from  him.  Now 
to  get  an  occasional  chance  at  them  he  is 
fairly  quiet." 

"  So  this  is  your  trained  crew,  is  it,  cap 
tain  ? "  said  a  grizzled  old  skipper  of  the 
party.  "What  ails  that  fellow  down  in  the 
scuppers  with  a  prayer-book  ?  "  He  pointed 
to  a  man  who  with  one  hand  was  rubbing  a 
small  holystone  in  a  corner  where  a  large 
one  would  not  go. 

"  Ran  foul  of  the  big  end  of  a  handspike," 
answered  Captain  Benson,  quietly ;  "  he  '11 
carry  his  arm  in  splints  all  the  way  home,  I 
think.  His  name  is  Gunner  Meagher.  I 
don't  know  how  they  got  their  names,  but 
they  signed  them  and  will  answer  to  them. 
They  are  unique.  Look  at  that  outlaw  down 
there  by  the  bitts.  That  is  Poop-deck  Cahill. 
Looks  like  a  prize-fighter,  does  n't  he  ?  But 
the  steward  tells  me  that  he  was  educated  for 
the  priesthood,  and  fell  by  the  wayside.  That 
one  close  to  the  hatch  —  the  one  with  the  red 
head  and  hang-dog  jib —  is  Seldom  Helward. 
He  was  shot  off  the  cro'-jack  yard;  he  fell 
into  the  lee  clew  of  the  cro'-jack,  so  we  pulled 
him  in." 

"What  did  he  do,  captain?'5  asked  the 
grizzled  skipper. 

"  Threw  a  marlinespike  at  the  mate." 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"        25 

"  What  made  him  throw  it  ?  " 

'*  Never  asked.  I  suppose  he  objected  to 
something  said  to  him." 

"  Ought  to  ha'  killed  him  on  the  yard.  Are 
they  all  of  a  kind  ?  " 

"Every  man.  Not  one  knew  the  ropes  or 
his  place  when  he  shipped.  They  're  schooner 
sailors  from  the  Lakes,  where  the  captain,  if  he 
is  civil  and  respectful  to  his  men,  is  as  good 
as  any  of  them.  They  started  to  clean  us  up 
the  first  day,  but  failed,  and  I  went  to  sea 
with  them.  Since  then,  until  lately,  it  has 
been  war  to  the  knife.  I  Ve  set  more  bones, 
mended  more  heads,  and  plugged  more  shot- 
holes  on  this  passage  than  ever  before,  and 
my  officers  have  grown  perceptibly  thinner  ; 
but  little  by  little,  man  by  man,  we  Ve  broken 
them  in.  Still,  I  admit,  it  was  a  job.  Why, 
that  same  Seldom  Helward  I  ironed  and  ran 
up  on  the  fall  of  a  main-buntline.  We  were 
rolling  before  a  stiff  breeze  and  sea,  and  he 
would  swing  six  feet  over  each  rail  and  bat 
against  the  mast  in  transit ;  but  the  dog  stood 
it  eight  hours  before  he  stopped  cursing  us. 
Then  he  was  unconscious.  When  he  came 
to  in  the  forecastle,  he  was  ready  to  be 
gin  again  ;  but  they  stopped  him.  They  Ve 
keeping  a  log,  I  learn,  and  are  going  to  law. 
Every  time  a  man  gets  thumped  they  enter 
the  tragedy,  and  all  sign  their  names." 

Captain  Benson  smiled  dignifiedly  in  an 
swer  to  the  outburst  of  laughter  evoked  by 


26        "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

this,  and  the  men  below  lifted  their  haggard, 
hopeless  faces  an  instant,  and  looked  at  the 
party  with  eyes  that  were  furtive  —  cat-like. 
The  grinding  of  the  stones  prevented  their 
hearing  the  talk,  but  they  knew  that  they 
were  being  laughed  at. 

"  Never  knew  a  sailor  yet,"  wheezed  a 
portly  and  asthmatic  captain,  "who  was  n't 
ready  to  sue  the  devil  and  try  the  court  in 
hell  when  he  's  at  sea.  Trouble  is,  they  never 
get  past  the  first  saloon." 

"  They  got  a  little  law  here,"  resumed 
Captain  Benson,  quietly.  "  I  put  them  all 
in  the  guardo.  The  consul  advised  it, 
and  committed  them  for  fear  they  might  de 
sert  when  we  lay  at  the  dock.  When  I  took 
them  out  to  run  to  the  islands,  they  com 
plained  of  being  starved;  and  to  tell  the  truth, 
they  did  n't  throw  their  next  meal  overboard 
as  usual.  Nevertheless,  a  good  four  weeks' 
board-bill  comes  out  of  their  wages.  I  don't 
think  they  '11  have  a  big  pay-day  in  New 
York:  the  natives  cleaned  out  the  forecastle 
in  their  absence,  and  they  '11  have  to  draw 
heavily  on  my  slop-chest." 

"  That  's  where  captains  have  the  best  of 
it,"  said  one  of  the  mates,  jocularly  —  and 
presumptuously,  to  judge  by  his  captain's 
frown ;  "  we  hammer  'em  round  and  wear  out 
their  clothes,  and  it  's  the  captain  that  sells 


'em  new  ones." 


Captain,"  said  the  grizzled  one,  who  had 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO  TREAD"        27 

been  scanning  the  crew  intently,  "  I  'd  pay 
that  crew  off  if  I  were  you ;  you  ought  to  ha' 
let  'em  run,  or  worked  'em  out  and  saved  their 
pay.  Look  at  'em  —  look  at  the  devils  in 
their  eyes.  I  notice  your  mates  seldom  turn 
their  backs  on  'em.  I  'd  get  rid  of  'em." 

"  What !  Just  when  we  have  them  under 
control  and  useful  ?  Oh,  no !  They  know 
their  work  now,  and  I  'd  only  have  to  ship  a 
crowd  of  beach-combers  and  half-breeds  at 
nearly  double  pay.  Besides,  gentlemen,  we  're 
just  a  little  proud  of  this  crew.  They  are 
lake  sailors  from  Oswego,  a  little  port  on 
Lake  Ontario.  When  I  was  young  I  sailed 
on  the  Lakes  a  season  or  two  and  became 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  aggressive 
self-respect  of  that  breed.  They  would  rather 
fight  than  eat.  Their  reputation  in  this  regard 
prevents  them  getting  berths  in  any  but  Os 
wego  vessels,  and  even  affects  the  policy  of 
the  nation.  There  's  a  fort  at  Oswego,  and 
whenever  a  company  of  soldiers  anywhere 
in  the  country  become  unmanageable  — 
when  their  officers  can't  control  them  outside 
the  guard-house  —  the  War  Department  at 
Washington  transfers  them  to  Oswego  for 
the  tutelage  they  will  get  from  the  sailors. 
And  they  get  it ;  they  are  well-behaved, 
well-licked  soldiers  when  they  leave.  An 
Oswego  sailor  loves  a  row.  He  is  pos 
sessed  by  the  fighting  spirit  of  a  bulldog  ;  he 
inherits  it  with  his  Irish  sense  of  injury;  he 


28      " WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR  TO  TREAD" 

sucks  it  in  with  his  mother's  milk,  and  drinks 
it  in  with  his  whisky ;  and  when  no  enemies 
are  near,  he  will  fight  his  friends.  Pay  them 
off?  Not  much.  I  Ve  taken  sixteen  of  those 
devils  round  the  Horn,  and  I  '11  take  them 
back.  I  'm  proud  of  them.  Just  look  at 
them,"  he  concluded  vivaciously,  as  he  waved 
his  hand  at  his  men ;  "  docile  and  obedient, 
down  on  their  knees  with  bibles  and  prayer- 
books." 

"  And  the  name  o'  the  Lord  on  their  lips," 
grunted  the  adviser;  "but  not  in  prayer,  I  '11 
bet  you." 

"  Hardly,"  laughed  Captain  Benson. 
"  Come  below,  gentlemen ;  the  steward  is 
ready." 

From  lack  of  facilities  the  mild-faced  and 
smiling  steward  could  not  serve  that  dinner 
with  the  style  which  it  deserved.  He  would 
have  liked,  he  explained,  as  they  seated  them 
selves,  to  bring  it  on  in  separate  courses ;  but 
one  and  all  disclaimed  such  frivolity.  The 
dinner  was  there,  and  that  was  enough.  And 
it  was  a  splendid  dinner.  In  front  of  Captain 
Benson,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  stood  a  large 
tureen  of  smoking  terrapin-stew  ;  next  to  that 
a  stuffed  and  baked  freshly  caught  fish ;  and 
waiting  their  turn  in  the  center  of  the  spread, 
a  couple  of  brace  of  wild  geese  from  the  inland 
lakes,  brown  and  glistening,  oyster-dressed 
and  savory.  Farther  along  was  a  steaming 
plum-pudding,  overhead  on  a  swinging  tray  a 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"        29 

dozen  bottles  of  wine,  by  the  captain's  elbow  a 
decanter  of  yellow  fluid,  and  before  each  man's 
plate  a  couple  of  glasses  of  different  size. 

V  We  '11  start  off  with  an  appetizer,  gentle 
men,"  said  the  host,  as  he  passed  the  decanter 
to  his  neighbor.  "  Here  is  some  of  the  best 
Dutch  courage  ever  distilled ;  try  it." 

The  decanter  went  around,  each  filling  his 
glass  and  holding  it  poised ;  then,  when  all 
were  supplied,  they  drank  to  the  grizzled  old 
captain's  toast :  "  A  speedy  and  pleasant  pas 
sage  home  for  the  Almena,  and  further  con 
fusion  to  her  misguided  crew."  The  captain 
responded  gracefully,  and  began  serving 
the  stew,  which  the  steward  took  from  him 
plate  by  plate,  and  passed  around. 

But,  either  because  thirteen  men  had  sat 
down  to  that  table,  or  because  the  Fates  were 
unusually  freakish  that  day,  it  was  destined 
that,  beyond  the  initial  glass  of  whisky,  not  a 
man  present  should  partake  of  Captain  Ben 
son's  dinner.  On  deck  things  had  been  hap 
pening,  and  just  as  the  host  had  filled  the  last 
plate  for  himself,  a  wet,  bedraggled,  dirty 
little  man,  his  tarry  clothing  splashed  with 
the  slime  of  the  deck,  his  eyes  flaming  green, 
his  face  expanded  to  a  smile  of  ferocity,  ap 
peared  in  the  forward  doorway,  holding  a 
cocked  revolver  which  covered  them  all.  Be 
hind  him  in  the  passage  were  other  men, 
equally  unkempt,  their  eyes  wide  open  with 
excitement  and  anticipation. 


30        " WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD" 

"  Don't  ye  move,"  yelped  the  little  man, 
"  not  a  man.  Keep  yer  hands  out  o'  yer 
pockets.  Put  'em  over  yer  heads.  That  's 
it.  You  too,  cappen." 

They  obeyed  him  (there  was  death  in  the 
green  eyes  and  smile),  all  but  one.  Captain 
Benson  sprang  to  his  feet,  with  a  hand  in  his 
breast  pocket. 

"  You  scoundrels!"  he  cried,  as  he  drew 
forth  a  pistol.  "  Leave  this  — "  The  speech 
was  stopped  by  a  report,  deafening  in  the 
closed-up  space ;  and  Captain  Benson  fell 
heavily,  his  pistol  rattling  on  the  floor. 

"  Hang  me  up,  will  ye  ? "  growled  another 
voice  through  the  smoke. 

In  the  after-door  were  more  men,  the  red- 
haired  Seldom  Helward  in  the  van,  holding 
a  smoking  pistol.  "  Get  the  gun,  one  o'  you 
fellows  over  there,"  he  called. 

A  man  stepped  in  and  picked  up  the  pistol, 
which  he  cocked. 

"  One  by  one,"  said  Seldom,  his  voice  ris 
ing  to  the  pitch  and  timbre  of  a  trumpet- 
blast,  "  you  men  walk  out  the  forward  com- 
panionway  with  your  hands  over  your  heads. 
Plug  them,  Sinful,  if  two  move  together,  and 
shoot  to  kill." 

Taken  by  surprise,  the  guests,  resolute  men 
though  they  were,  obeyed  the  command.  As 
each  rose  to  his  feet,  he  was  first  relieved  of 
a  bright  revolver,  which  served  to  increase 
the  moral  front  of  the  enemy,  then  led  out 


"WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR  TO   TREAD"        31 

to  the  booby-hatch,  on  which  lay  a  newly 
broached  coil  of  hambro-line  and  pile  of 
thole-pins  from  the  boatswain's  locker.  Here 
he  was  searched  again  for  jack-knife  or  brass 
knuckles,  bound  with  the  hambro-line,  gagged 
with  a  thole-pin,  and  marched  forward,  past 
the  prostrate  first  mate,  who  lay  quiet  in  the 
scuppers,  and  the  erect  but  agonized  second 
mate,  gagged  and  bound  to  the  fife-rail,  to  the 
port  forecastle,  where  he  was  locked  in  with 
the  Chinese  cook,  who,  similarly  treated,  had 
preceded.  The  mild- faced  steward,  weeping 
now,  as  much  from  professional  disappoint 
ment  as  from  stronger  emotion,  was  ques 
tioned  sternly,  and  allowed  his  freedom  on 
his  promise  not  to  "  sing  out "  or  make  trou 
ble.  Captain  Benson  was  examined,  his  in 
jury  diagnosed  as  brain-concussion,  from  the 
glancing  bullet,  more  or  less  serious,  and 
dragged  out  to  the  scuppers,  where  he  was 
bound  beside  his  unconscious  first  officer. 
Then,  leaving  them  to  live  or  die  as  their  sub- 
consciousness  determined,  the  sixteen  muti 
neers  sacrilegiously  reentered  the  cabin  and 
devoured  the  dinner.  And  the  appetites  they 
displayed  —  their  healthy,  hilarious  enjoyment 
of  the  good  things  on  the  table  —  so  affected 
the  professional  sense  of  the  steward  that  he 
ceased  his  weeping,  and  even  smiled  as  he 
waited  on  them. 

When  you  have  cursed,  beaten,  and  kicked 
a  slave  for  five  months  it  is  always  advisable 


32         "WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

to  watch  him  for  a  few  seconds  after  you  ad 
minister  correction,  to  give  him  time  to  real 
ize  his  condition.  And  when  you  have  carried 
a  revolver  in  the  right-hand  trousers  pocket 
for  five  months  it  is  advisable  occasionally  to 
inspect  the  cloth  of  the  pocket  to  make  sure 
that  it  is  not  wearing  thin  from  the  chafe  of 
the  muzzle.  Mr.  Jackson  had  ignored  the  first 
rule  of  conduct,  Mr.  Becker  the  second.  Mr. 
Jackson  had  kicked  Sinful  Peck  once  too 
often  ;  but  not  knowing  that  it  was  once  too 
often,  had  immediately  turned  his  back,  and 
received  thereat  the  sharp  corner  of  a  bible 
on  his  bump  of  inhabitiveness,  which  bump 
responded  in  its  function ;  for  Mr.  Jackson 
showed  no  immediate  desire  to  move  from 
the  place  where  he  fell.  Beyond  binding,  he 
received  no  further  attention  from  the  men. 
Mr.  Becker,  on  his  way  to  the  lazarette  in 
the  stern  for  a  bucket  of  sand  to  assist  in 
the  holystoning,  had  reached  the  head  of 
the  poop  steps  when  this  occurred ;  and  turn 
ing  at  the  sound  of  his  superior's  fall,  had 
bounded  to  the  main-deck  without  touching 
the  steps,  reaching  for  his  pistol  as  he  landed, 
only  to  pinion  his  fingers  in  a  large  hole  in 
the  pocket.  Wildly  he  struggled  to  reclaim 
his  weapon,  down  his  trouser  leg,  held  firmly 
to  his  knee  by  the  tight  rubber  boot ;  but  he 
could  not  reach  it.  His  anxious  face  betrayed 
his  predicament  to  the  wakening  men,  and 
when  he  looked  into  Mr.  Jackson's  revolver, 


"WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"        33 

held  by  Sinful  Peck,  he  submitted  to  being 
bound  to  the  fife-rail  and  gagged  with  the 
end  of  the  topgallant-sheet  —  a  large  rope, 
which  just  filled  his  mouth,  and  hurt.  Then 
the  firearm  was  recovered,  and  the  descent 
upon  the  dinner-party  quickly  planned  and 
carried  out. 

Have  you  ever  seen  a  kennel  of  hunting- 
dogs  released  on  a  fine  day  after  long  con 
finement —  how  they  bark  and  yelp,  chasing 
one  another,  biting  playfully,  rolling  and  tum 
bling  over  and  over  in  sheer  joy  and  healthy 
appreciation  of  freedom  ?  Without  the  vocal 
expression  of  emotion,  the  conduct  of  these 
men  after  that  wine  dinner  was  very  similar 
to  that  of  such  emancipated  dogs.  They 
waltzed,  boxed,  wrestled,  threw  each  other 
about  the  deck,  turned  handsprings  and  cart 
wheels, —  those  not  too  weak, —  buffeted, 
kicked,  and  clubbed  the  suffering  Mr.  Becker, 
reviled  and  cursed  the  unconscious  captain 
and  chief  officer,  and  when  tired  of  this,  as 
children  and  dogs  of  play,  they  turned  to  their 
captives  for  amusement.  The  second  mate 
was  taken  from  the  fife-rail,  with  hands  still 
bound,  and  led  to  the  forecastle ;  the  gags  of 
all  and  the  bonds  of  the  cook  were  removed, 
and  the  forecastle  dinner  was  brought  from 
the  galley.  This  they  were  invited  to  eat. 
There  was  a  piece  of  salt  beef,  boiled  a  little 
longer  than  usual  on  account  of  the  delay  ;  it 
was  black,  brown,  green,  and  iridescent  in 


34        "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR  TO  TREAD" 

spots ;  it  was  slippery  with  ptomaines,  filthy 
to  the  sight,  stinking,  and  nauseating.  There 
were  potatoes,  two  years  old,  shriveled  before 
boiling  —  hard  and  soggy,  black,  blue,  and 
bitter  after  the  process.  And  there  was  the 
usual  "  weevily  hardtack  "  in  the  bread-barge. 

Protest  was  useless.  The  unhappy  captives 
surrounded  that  dinner  on  the  forecastle  floor 
(for  there  was  neither  table  to  sit  at,  nor  chests, 
stools,  or  boxes  to  sit  on,  in  the  apartment), 
and,  with  hands  behind  their  backs  and  disgust 
in  their  faces,  masticated  and  swallowed  the 
morsels  which  the  Chinese  cook  put  to  their 
mouths,  while  their  feelings  were  further  out 
raged  by  the  hilarity  of  the  men  at  their  backs, 
and  their  appetites  occasionally  jogged  into 
activity  by  the  impact  on  their  heads  of  a 
tarry  fist  or  pistol-butt.  At  last  a  portly  cap 
tain  began  vomiting,  and  this  being  conta 
gious,  the  meal  ended  ;  for  even  the  stomachs 
of  the  sailors,  overcharged  as  they  were  with 
the  rich  food  and  wine  of  the  cabin  table,  were 
affected  by  the  spectacle. 

There  were  cool  heads  in  that  crowd  of  mu 
tineers  —  men  who  thought  of  consequences : 
Poop-deck  Cahill,  square-faced  and  resolute, 
but  thoughtful  of  eye  and  refined  of  speech ; 
Seldom  Helward,  who  had  shot  the  captain  — 
a  man  whose  fiery  hair,  arching  eyebrows,  Ro 
man  nose,  and  explosive  language  indicated 
the  daredevil,  but  whose  intelligent  though 
humorous  eye  and  corrugated  forehead  gave 


"WHERE  ANGELS  FEAR   TO   TREAD"        35 

certain  signs  of  repressive  study  and  thought ; 
and  Bigpig  Monahan,  already  described. 
These  three  men  went  into  session  under  the 
break  of  the  poop,  and  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  consul  who  had  jailed  them  for  no 
thing  would  hang  them  for  this ;  then,  calling 
the  rest  to  the  conference  as  a  committee  of 
the  whole,  they  outlined  and  put  to  vote  a 
proposition  to  make  sail  and  go  to  sea,  leaving 
the  fate  of  their  captives  for  later  consideration 
—  which  was  adopted  unanimously  and  with 
much  profanity,  the  central  thought  of  the  lat 
ter  being  an  intention  to  "  make  'em  finish  the 
holystonin' for  the  fun  they  had  laughin'  at  us." 
Then  Bigpig  Monahan  sneaked  below  and  in 
duced  the  steward  to  toss  through  the  store 
room  dead-light  every  bottle  of  wine  and  liq 
uor  which  the  ship  contained.  "  For  Seldom 
and  Poop-deck,"  he  said  to  him,  "  are  the  only 
men  in  the  gang  fit  to  pick  up  navigation  and 
git  this  ship  into  port  again  ;  but  if  they  git 
their  fill  of  it,  it's  all  day  with  you,  steward." 
Six  second  mates  on  six  American  ships 
watched  curiously,  doubtingly,  and  at  last 
anxiously,  as  sails  were  dropped  and  yards 
mastheaded  on  board  the  Almena,  and  as  she 
paid  off  from  the  mooring-buoy  before  the 
land-breeze  and  showed  them  her  stern,  sent 
six  dinghies,  which  gave  up  the  pursuit  in  a 
few  minutes  and  mustered  around  the  buoy, 
where  a  wastefully  slipped  shot  of  anchor- 
chain  gave  additional  evidence  that  all  was 


36         "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

not  right.  But  by  the  time  the  matter  was 
reported  to  the  authorities  ashore,  the  Al- 
mena,  having  caught  the  newly  arrived  south 
erly  wind  off  the  Peruvian  coast,  was  hull  down 
on  the  western  horizon. 

FOUR  days  later,  one  of  the  Almenas  boats, 
containing  twelve  men  with  sore  heads,  dis 
figured  faces,  and  clothing  ruined  by  oily 
wood-pulp, —  ruined  particularly  about  the 
knees  of  their  trousers, —  came  wearily  into 
the  roadstead  from  the  open  sea,  past  the 
shipping,  and  up  to  the  landing  at  the  cus 
tom-house  docks.  From  here  the  twelve  pro 
ceeded  to  the  American  consul  and  entered 
bitter  complaint  of  inhuman  treatment  re 
ceived  at  the  hands  of  sixteen  mutinous  sail 
ors  on  board  the  Almena  —  treatment  so  cruel 
that  they  had  welcomed  being  turned  adrift  in 
an  open  boat ;  whereat,  the  consul,  deploring 
the  absence  of  man-of-war  or  steamer  to  send 
in  pursuit,  took  their  individual  affidavits  ;  and 
these  he  sent  to  San  Francisco,  from  which 
point  the  account  of  the  crime,  described  as 
piracy,  spread  to  every  newspaper  in  Chris 
tendom. 

PART    III 

A  NORTHEAST  gale  off  Hatteras :  immense 
gray  combers,  five  to  the  mile,  charging  shore 
ward,  occasionally  breaking,  again  lifting  their 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"        37 

heads  too  high  in  the  effort,  truncated  as  by  a 
knife,  and  the  liquid  apex  shattered  to  spray ; 
an  expanse  of  leaden  sky  showing  between 
the  rain-squalls,  across  which  heavy  back 
ground  rushed  the  darker  scud  and  storm- 
clouds;  a  passenger-steamer  rolling  helplessly 
in  the  trough,  and  a  square-rigged  vessel, 
hove  to  on  the  port  tack,  two  miles  to  wind 
ward  of  the  steamer,  and  drifting  south  toward 
the  storm-center.  This  is  the  picture  that  the 
sea-birds  saw  at  daybreak  on  a  September 
morning,  and  could  the  sea-birds  have  spoken 
they  might  have  told  that  the  square-rigged 
craft  carried  a  navigator  who  had  learned 
that  a  whirling  fury  of  storm-center  was  less 
to  be  feared  than  the  deadly  Diamond  Shoals 
— the  outlying  guard  of  Cape  Hatteras  toward 
which  that  steamer  was  drifting,  broadside  on. 
Clad  in  yellow  oilskins  and  sou'wester,  he 
stood  by  the  after-companionway,  intently  ex 
amining  through  a  pair  of  glasses  the  wallow 
ing  steamer  to  leeward,  barely  distinguishable 
in  the  half-light  and  driving  spindrift.  On 
the  main-deck  a  half-dozen  men  paced  up  and 
down,  sheltered  by  the  weather  rail ;  forward, 
two  others  walked  the  deck  by  the  side  of  the 
forward  house,  but  never  allowed  their  march 
to  extend  past  the  .after-corner ;  and  at  the 
wheel  stood  a  little  man  who  sheltered  a 
cheerful  face  under  the  lee  of  a  big  coat- 
collar,  and  occasionally  peeped  out  at  the 
navigator. 


38         "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

"  Poop-deck,"  he  shouted  above  the  noise 
of  the  wind,  "take  the  wheel  till  I  fire  up." 

"  Thought  I  was  exempt  from  steering," 
growled  the  other,  good-humoredly,  as  he 
placed  the  glasses  inside  the  companionway. 

"  You  're  getting  too  fat  and  sassy  ;  steer  a 
little." 

Poop-deck  relieved  the  little  man,  who  de 
scended  the  cabin  stairs,  and  returned  in  a 
few  moments,  smoking  a  short  pipe.  He  took 
the  wheel,  and  Poop-deck  again  examined  the 
steamer  with  the  glasses. 

"  There  goes  his  ensign,  union  down,"  he 
exclaimed  ;  "  he  's  in  trouble.  We  '11  show 
ours." 

From  a  flag-locker  inside  the  companion- 
way  he  drew  out  the  Stars  and  Stripes, 
which  he  ran  up  to  the  monkey-gaff.  Then 
he  looked  again. 

"Down  goes  his  ensign  ;  up  goes  the  code 
pennant.  He  wants  to  signal.  Come  up 
here,  boys,"  called  Poop-deck;  "give  me  a 
hand." 

As  the  six  men  climbed  the  steps,  he  pulled 
out  the  corresponding  code  signal  from  the 
locker,  and  ran  it  up  on  the  other  part  of  the 
halyards  as  the  ensign  fluttered  down.  "  Go 
down,  one  of  you,"  he  said,  "and  get  the  sig 
nal-book  and  shipping-list.  He  '11  show  his 
number  next.  Get  ours  ready  —  R.  L.  F.  T." 

While  a  man  sprang  below  for  the  books 
named,  the  others  hooked  together  the  signal- 


"WHERE   ANGELS  FEAR   TO   TREAD"        39 

flags  forming  the  ship's  number,  and  Poop- 
deck  resumed  the  glasses. 

"  Q.  T.  F.  N.,"  he  exclaimed.   "  Look  it  up." 

The  books  had  arrived,  and  while  one  low 
ered  and  hoisted  again  the  code  signal,  which 
was  also  the  answering  pennant,  the  others 
pored  over  the  shipping-list. 

"Steamer  Aldebaran  of  New  York,"  they 
said. 

The  pennant  came  down,  and  the  ship's 
number  went  up  to  the  gaff. 

"  H.  V.,"  called  Poop-deck,  as  he  scanned 
two  flags  now  flying  from  the  steamer's  truck. 
"  What  does  that  say  ?  " 

"Damaged  rudder — cannot  steer,"  they 
answered. 

"  Pull  down  the  number  and  show  the  an 
swering  pennant  again,"  said  Poop-deck ; 
"  and  let  me  see  that  signal-book."  He  turned 
the  leaves,  studied  a  page  for  a  moment,  then 
said  :  "  Run  up  H.  V.  R.  That  says,  '  What 
do  you  want  ? '  and  that 's  the  nearest  thing 
to  it." 

These  flags  took  the  place  of  the  answering 
pennant  at  the  gaff-end,  and  again  Poop-deck 
watched  through  the  glasses,  noting  first  the 
showing  of  the  steamer's  answering  pennant, 
then  the  letters  K.  R.  N. 

"What  does  K.  R.  N.  say?"  he  asked. 

They  turned  the  leaves,  and  answered  :  "I 
can  tow  you." 

"Tow    us?     We  're    all    right;    we    don't 


40        "WHERE   ANGELS  FEAR  TO  TREAD" 

want  a  tow.  He  's  crazy.  How  can  he  tow 
us  when  he  can't  steer  ?  "  exclaimed  three  or 
four  together. 

"  He  wants  to  tow  us  so  that  he  can  steer, 
you  blasted  fools,"  said  Poop-deck.  "  He  can 
keep  head  to  sea  and  go  where  he  likes  with 
a  big  drag  on  his  stern." 

"  That  's  so.  Where  's  he  bound — 'you 
that  has  knowledge  and  eddication  '  ?  " 

11  Did  n't  say  ;  but  he  's  bound  for  the  Dia 
mond  Shoals,  and  he  '11  fetch  up  in  three 
hours,  if  we  can't  help  him.  He  's  close  in." 

"  Tow-line  's  down  the  forepeak,"  said  a 
man.  "  Could  n't  get  it  up  in  an  hour,"  said 
another.  "  Yes,  we  can,"  said  a  third.  Then, 
all  speaking  at  once,  and  each  raising  his  voice 
to  its  limit,  they  argued  excitedly  :  "  Can't  be 
done."  "  Coil  it  on  the  forecastle."  "Yes, 
we  can."  "  Too  much  sea."  "  Run  down  to 
wind'ard."  "Line  'ud  part,  anyhow."  "Float 
a  barrel."  "  Shut  up."  "  I  tell  you,  we  can." 
"Call  the  watch."  "Seldom,  yer  daft." 
"  Need  n't  get  a  boat  over."  "  Hell  ye  can." 
"  Call  the  boys."  "  All  hands  with  heavin'- 
lines."  "  Can't  back  a  topsail  in  this."  "  Go 
lay  down."  "  Soak  yer  head,  Seldom." 
"Hush."  "Shut  up."  "Nothin'jj/^  can't  do." 
"  Go  to  the  devil."  "  I  tell  you,  we  can  ;  do 
as  I  say,  and  we  '11  get  a  line  to  him,  or  get 
his." 

The  affirmative  speaker,  who  had  also  ut 
tered  the  last  declaration,  was  Seldom  Hel- 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD"        41 

ward.  "  Put  me  in  command,"  he  yelled 
excitedly,  "  and  do  what  I  tell  you,  and  we  '11 
make  fast  to  him." 

"  No  captains  here,"  growled  one,  while 
the  rest  eyed  Seldom  reprovingly. 

"Well,  there  ought  to  be;  you  're  all  rat 
tled,  and  don't  know  any  more  than  to  let 
thousands  o'  dollars  slip  past  you.  There  's 
salvage  down  to  looward." 

"Salvage?" 

"  Yes,  salvage.  Big  boat  —  full  o'  passen 
gers  and  valuable  cargo  —  shoals  to  looward 
of  him  —  can't  steer.  You  poor  fools,  what 
ails  you  ?  " 

"  Foller  Seldom,"  vociferated  the  little  man 
at  the  wheel ;  "  foller  Seldom,  and  ye  '11  wear 
stripes." 

"Dry  up,  Sinful.  Call  the  watch.  It  's 
near  seven  bells,  anyhow.  Let  's  hear  what 
the  rest  say.  Strike  the  bell." 

The  uproarious  howl  with  which  sailors  call 
the  watch  below  was  delivered  down  the  cabin 
stairs,  and  soon  eight  other  men  came  up, 
rubbing  their  eyes  and  grumbling  at  the 
premature  wakening,  while  another  man  came 
out  of  the  forecastle  and  joined  the  two  pa 
cing  the  forward  deck.  Seldom  Helward's 
proposition  was  discussed  noisily  in  joint  ses 
sion  on  the  poop,  and  finally  accepted. 

"We  put  you  in  charge,  Seldom,  against 
the  rule,"  said  Bigpig  Monahan,  sternly, 
"  'cause  we  think  you  Ve  some  good  scheme 


42         "WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

in  your  head ;  but  if  you  have  n't, —  if  you 
make  a  mess  of  things  just  to  have  a  little  fun 
bossin'  us, —  you  '11  hear  from  us.  Go  ahead, 
now.  You  're  captain." 

Seldom  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  after- 
house,  looked  to  windward,  then  to  leeward 
at  the  rolling  steamer,  and  called  out : 

"  I  want  more  beef  at  the  wheel.  Bigpig, 
take  it ;  and  you,  Turkey,  stand  by  with  him. 
Get  away  from  there,  Sinful.  Give  her  the 
upper  maintopsail,  the  rest  of  you.  Poop- 
deck,  you  stand  by  the  signal-halyards.  Ask 
him  if  he  's  got  a  tow-line  ready." 

Protesting  angrily  at  the  slight  put  upon 
him,  Sinful  Peck  relinquished  the  wheel,  and 
joined  the  rest  on  the  main-deck,  where  they 
had  hurried.  Two  men  went  aloft  to  loose 
the  topsail,  and  the  rest  cleared  away  gear, 
while  Poop-deck  examined  the  signal-book. 

"  K.  S.  G.  says,  '  Have  a  tow-line  ready.' 
That  ought  to  do,  Seldom,"  he  called. 

"  Run  it  up,"  ordered  the  newly  installed 
captain,  "and  watch  his  answer."  Up  went 
the  signal,  and  as  the  men  on  the  main-deck 
were  manning  the  topsail-halyards,  Poop- 
deck  made  out  the  answer:  "V.  K.  C." 

"That  means  '  All  right,'  Seldom,"  he 
said,  after  inspecting  the  book. 

"  Good  enough ;  but  we  '11  get  our  line 
ready,  too.  Get  down  and  help  'em  mast 
head  the  yard  first,  then  take  'em  forrard  and 
coil  the  tow-line  abaft  the  windlass.  Get  all 
the  heavin'-lines  ready,  too." 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"        43 

Poop-deck  obeyed ;  and  while  the  main- 
topsail-yard  slowly  arose  to  place  under  the 
efforts  of  the  rest,  Seldom  himself  ran  up 
the  answering  pennant,  and  then  the  repe 
tition  of  the  steamer's  last  message:  "All 
right."  This  was  the  final  signal  displayed 
between  the  two  craft.  Both  signal-flags  were 
lowered,  and  for  a  half-hour  Seldom  waited, 
until  the  others  had  lifted  a  nine-inch  hawser 
from  the  forepeak  and  coiled  it  down.  Then 
came  his  next  orders  in  a  continuous  roar : 

"  Three  hands  aft  to  the  spanker-sheet ! 
Stand  by  to  slack  off  and  haul  in  !  Man  the 
braces  for  wearing  ship,  the  rest  o'  you  ! 
Hard  up  the  wheel !  Check  in  port  main  and 
starboard  cro'-jack  braces !  Shiver  the  top 
sail  !  Slack  off  that  spanker  !  " 

Before  he  had  finished  the  men  had  reached 
their  posts.  The  orders  were  obeyed.  The 
ship  paid  off,  staggered  a  little  in  the  trough 
under  the  right-angle  pressure  of  the  gale, 
swung  still  farther,  and  steadied  down  to  a 
long,  rolling  motion,  dead  before  the  wind, 
heading  for  the  steamer.  Yards  were  squared 
in,  the  spanker  hauled  aft,  staysail  trimmed 
to  port,  and  all  hands  waited  while  the  ship 
charged  down  the  two  miles  of  intervening 
sea. 

"  Handles  like  a  yacht,"  muttered  Seldom, 
as,  with  brow  wrinkled  and  keen  eye  flash 
ing  above  his  hooked  nose,  he  conned  the 
steering  from  his  place  near  the  mizzenmast. 

Three  men  separated  themselves  from  the 


44        "WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

rest  and  came  aft.  They  were  those  who 
had  walked  the  forward  deck.  One  was  tall, 
broad-shouldered,  and  smooth-shaven,  with  a 
palpable  limp ;  another,  short,  broad,  and 
hairy,  showed  a  lamentable  absence  of  front 
teeth  ;  and  the  third,  a  blue-eyed  man,  slight 
and  graceful  of  movement,  carried  his  arm  in 
splints  and  sling.  This  last  was  in  the  van 
as  they  climbed  the  poop  steps. 

"  I  wish  to  protest,"  he  said.  "  I  am  cap 
tain  of  this  ship  under  the  law.  I  protest 
against  this  insanity.  No  boat  can  live  in  this 
sea.  No  help  can  be  given  that  steamer." 

"And  I  bear  witness  to  the  protest,"  said 
the  tall  man.  The  short,  hairy  man  might 
have  spoken  also,  but  had  no  time. 

"  Get  off  the  poop,"  yelled  Seldom.  "  Go 
forrard,  where  you  belong."  He  stood  close 
to  the  bucket- rack  around  the  skylight. 
Seizing  bucket  after  bucket,  he  launched  them 
at  his  visitors,  with  the  result  that  the  big  man 
was  tumbled  down  the  poop  steps  head  first, 
while  the  other  two  followed,  right  side  up, 
but  hurriedly,  and  bearing  some  sore  spots. 
Then  the  rest  of  the  men  set  upon  them, 
much  as  a  pack  of  dogs  would  worry  strange 
cats,  and  kicked  and  buffeted  them  forward. 

There  was  no  time  for  much  amusement  of 
this  sort.  Yards  were  braced  to  port,  for  the 
ship  was  careering  down  toward  the  steamer 
at  a  ten-knot  rate ;  and  soon  black  dots  on 
her  rail  resolved  into  passengers  waving  hats 


"WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD'*        45 

and  handkerchiefs,  and  black  dots  on  the  boat 
deck  resolved  into  sailors  standing  by  the  end 
of  a  hawser  which  led  up  from  the  bitts  below 
on  the  fantail.  And  the  ship  came  down, 
until  it  might  have  seemed  that  Seldom's  in 
tention  was  to  ram  her.  But  not  so  ;  when  a 
scant  two  lengths  separated  the  two  craft,  he 
called  out :  "  Hard  down!  Light  up  the  stay 
sail-sheet  and  stand  by  the  forebraces  !  " 

Around  the  ship  came  on  the  crest  of  a  sea  ; 
she  sank  into  the  hollow  behind,  shipped  a  few 
dozen  tons  of  water  from  the  next  comber, 
and  then  lay  fairly  steady,  with  her  bow  meet 
ing  the  seas,  and  the  huge  steamer  not  a  half- 
length  away  on  the  lee  quarter.  The  fore- 
topmast-staysail  was  flattened,  and  Seldom 
closely  scrutinized  the  drift  and  heave  of  the 
ship. 

"  How  's  your  wheel,  Bigpig? "  he  asked. 

"  Hard  down." 

"  Put  it  up  a  little;  keep  her  in  the  trough." 

He  noted  the  effect  on  the  ship  of  this 
change  ;  then,  as  though  satisfied,  roared  out : 
"  Let  your  forebraces  hang,  forrard  there ! 
Stand  by  heavin'-lines  fore  and  aft !  Stand 
by  to  go  ahead  with  that  steamer  when  we 
have  your  line ! "  The  last  injunction,  delivered 
through  his  hands,  went  down  the  wind  like  a 
thunder-clap,  and  the  officers  on  the  steamer's 
bridge,  vainly  trying  to  make  themselves 
heard  against  the  gale  in  the  same  manner, 
started  perceptibly  at  the  impact  of  sound, 


46         "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

and  one  went  to  the  engine-room  speaking- 
tube. 

Breast  to  breast  the  two  vessels  lifted  and 
fell.  At  times  it  seemed  that  the  ship  was  to 
be  dropped  bodily  on  the  deck  of  the  steamer  ; 
at  others,  her  crew  looked  up  a  streaked  slope 
of  a  hundred  feet  to  where  the  other  craft  was 
poised  at  the  crest.  Then  the  steamer  would 
drop,  and  the  next  sea  would  heave  the  ship 
toward  her.  But  it  was  noticeable  that  every 
bound  brought  her  nearer  to  the  steamer,  and 
also  farther  ahead,  for  her  sails  were  doing 
their  work. 

"  Kick  ahead  on  board  the  steamer !  "  thun 
dered  Seldom  from  his  eminence.  "  Go  ahead  ! 
Start  the  wagon,  or  say  your  prayers,  you 
blasted  idiots  !  " 

The  engines  were  already  turning ;  but  it 
takes  time  to  overcome  three  thousand  tons  of 
inertia,  and  before  the  steamer  had  forged 
ahead  six  feet  the  ship  had  lifted  above  her, 
and  descended  her  black  side  with  a  grinding 
crash  of  wood  against  iron.  Fore  and  main 
channels  on  the  ship  were  carried  away,  leav 
ing  all  lee  rigging  slack  and  useless ;  lower 
braces  caught  in  the  steamer's  davit-cleats  and 
snapped,  but  the  sails,  held  by  the  weather 
braces,  remained  full,  and  the  yards  did  not 
swing.  The  two  craft  separated  with  a  roll  and 
came  together  again  with  more  scraping  and 
snapping  of  rigging.  Passengers  left  the  rail, 
dived  indoors,  and  took  refuge  on  the  opposite 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"        47 

side,  where  falling  blocks  and  small  spars  might 
not  reach  them.  Another  leap  toward  the 
steamer  resulted  in  the  ship's  maintopgallant- 
mast  falling  in  a  zigzag  whirl,  as  the  snapping 
gear  aloft  impeded  it ;  and  dropping  athwart 
the  steamer's  funnel,  it  neatly  sent  the  royal- 
yard  with  sail  attached  down  the  iron  cylinder, 
where  it  soon  blazed  and  helped  the  artificial 
draft  in  the  stoke-hold.  Next  came  the 
foretopgallantmast,  which  smashed  a  couple 
of  boats.  Then,  as  the  round  black  stern  of 
the  steamer  scraped  the  lee  bow  of  the  ship, 
jib-guys  parted,  and  the  jib-boom  itself  went, 
snapping  at  the  bowsprit-cap,  with  the  last 
bite  the  ship  made  at  the  steamer  she  was  help 
ing.  But  all  through  this  riot  of  destruction 
—  while  passengers  screamed  and  prayed, 
while  officers  on  the  steamer  shouted  and 
swore,  and  Seldom  Helward,  bellowing  in 
sanely,  danced  up  and  down  on  the  ship's 
house,  and  the  hail  of  wood  and  iron  from 
aloft  threatened  their  heads  —  men  were  pass 
ing  the  tow-line. 

It  was  a  three-inch  steel  hawser  with  a  Ma 
nila  tail,  which  they  had  taken  to  the  foretop- 
sail-sheet  bitts  before  the  jib-boom  had  gone. 
Panting  from  their  exertions,  they  watched  it 
lift  from  the  water  as  the  steamer  ahead  paid  out 
with  a  taut  strain  ;  then,  though  the  crippled 
spars  were  in  danger  of  falling  and  really  needed 
their  first  attention,  they  ignored  the  fact  and 
hurried  aft,  as  one  man,  to  attend  to  Seldom. 


48        "WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD" 

Encouraged  by  the  objurgations  of  Bigpig 
and  his  assistant,  who  were  steering  now  after 
the  steamer,  they  called  their  late  commander 
down  from  the  house  and  deposed  him  in  a 
concert  of  profane  ridicule  and  abuse,  to 
which  he  replied  in  kind.  He  was  struck  in 
the  face  by  the  small  fist  of  Sinful  Peck,  and 
immediately  knocked  the  little  man  down. 
Then  he  was  knocked  down  himself  by  a 
larger  fist,  and,  fighting  bravely  and  viciously, 
became  the  object  of  fist-blows  and  kicks, 
until,  in  one  of  his  whirling  staggers  along 
the  deck,  he  passed  close  to  the  short,  broad, 
hairy  man,  who  yielded  to  the  excitement  of 
the  moment  and  added  a  blow  to  Seldom's 
punishment.  It  was  an  unfortunate  mistake  ; 
for  he  took  SeldonYs  place,  and  the  rain  of 
fists  and  boots  descended  on  him  until  he 
fell  unconscious.  Mr.  Helward  himself  de 
livered  the  last  quieting  blow,  and  then  stood 
over  him  with  a  lurid  grin  on  his  bleeding 
face. 

"  Got  to  put  down  mutiny  though  the  hea 
vens  fall,"  he  said  painfully. 

"  Right  you  are,  Seldom,"  answered  one. 
"Here,  Jackson,  Benson — drag  him  forrard; 
and,  Seldom,"  he  added,  reprovingly,  "  don't 
you  ever  try  it  again.  Want  to  be  captain, 
hey  ?  You  can't ;  you  don't  know  enough. 
You  could  n't  command  my  wheelbarrow. 
Here  's  three  days'  work  to  clear  up  the  muss 
you  've  made." 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD"        49 

But  in  this  they  spoke  more,  and  less,  than 
the  truth.  The  steamer,  going  slowly,  and 
steering  with  a  bridle  from  the  tow-line  to 
each  quarter,  kept  the  ship's  canvas  full  until 
her  crew  had  steadied  the  yards  and  furled  it. 
They  would  then  have  rigged  preventer-stays 
and  shrouds  on  their  shaky  spars,  had  there 
been  time ;  but  there  was  not.  An  uncanny 
appearance  of  the  sea  to  leeward  indicated 
too  close  proximity  to  the  shoals,  while  a 
blackening  of  the  sky  to  windward  told  of 
probable  increase  of  wind  and  sea.  And 
the  steamer  waited  no  longer.  With  a  pre 
liminary  blast  of  her  whistle,  she  hung  the 
weight  of  the  ship  on  the  starboard  bridle, 
gave  power  to  her  engines,  and  rounded  to, 
very  slowly,  head  to  sea,  while  the  men  on 
the  ship,  who  had  been  carrying  the  end  of 
the  coiled  hawser  up  the  foretopmast  rigging, 
dropped  it  and  came  down  hurriedly. 

Released  from  the  wind-pressure  on  her 
strong  side,  which  had  somewhat  steadied  her, 
the  ship  now  rolled  more  than  she  had  done 
in  the  trough,  and  with  every  starboard  roll 
were  ominous  creakings  and  grindings  aloft. 
At  last  came  a  heavier  lurch,  and  both  crip 
pled  topmasts  fell,  taking  with  them  the  miz- 
zentopgallantmast.  Luckily,  no  one  was 
hurt,  and  they  disgustedly  cut  the  wreck 
adrift,  stayed  the  fore-  and  mainmasts  with 
the  hawser,  and  resigning  themselves  to  a 
large  subtraction  from  their  salvage,  went  to 


50        "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD" 

a  late  breakfast  —  a  savory  meal  of  smoking 
fried  ham  and  potatoes,  hot  cakes  and  coffee, 
served  to  sixteen  in  the  cabin,  and  an  unsa 
vory  meal  of  "hardtack-hash,"  with  an  infu 
sion  of  burnt  bread-crust,  pease,  beans,  and 
leather,  handed,  but  not  served,  to  three  in 
the  forecastle. 

Three  days  later,  with  Sandy  Hook  light 
house  showing  through  the  haze  ahead,  and 
nothing  left  of  the  gale  but  a  rolling  ground- 
swell,  the  steamer  slowed  down  so  that  a 
pilot-boat's  dinghy  could  put  a  man  aboard 
each  craft.  And  the  one  who  climbed  the 
ship's  side  was  the  pilot  that  had  taken  her  to 
sea,  outward  bound,  and  sympathized  with  her 
crew.  They  surrounded  him  on  the  poop 
and  asked  for  news,  while  the  three  men  for 
ward  looked  aft  hungrily,  as  though  they 
would  have  joined  the  meeting,  but  dared  not. 
Instead  of  giving  news,  the  pilot  asked  ques 
tions,  which  they  answered. 

"  I  knew  you  'd  taken  charge,  boys,"  he 
said  at  length.  "  The  whole  world  knows  it, 
and  every  man-of-war  on  the  Pacific  sta 
tions  has  been  looking  for  you.  But  they  're 
only  looking  out  there.  What  brings  you 
round  here,  dismasted,  towing  into  New 
York?" 

"That  's  where  the  ship  's  bound  —  New 
York.  We  took  her  out ;  we  bring  her  home. 
We  don't  want  her  —  don't  belong  to  us. 
We  're  law-abidin'  men." 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD"        51 

"  Law-abiding  men  ?  "  asked  the  amazed 
pilot. 

"You  bet.  We  Ye  goin'  to  prosecute  those 
dogs  of  ours  forrard  there  to  the  last  limit  o' 
the  law.  We  '11  show  'em  they  can't  starve 
and  hammer  and  shoot  free-born  Americans 
just  'cause  they  Ve  got  guns  in  their  pockets." 

The  pilot  looked  forward,  nodded  to  one  of 
the  three,  who  beckoned  to  him,  and  asked : 

"  Who  'd  you  elect  captain  ?  " 

"  Nobody,"  they  roared.  "  We  had  enough 
o'  captains.  This  ship  's  an  unlimited  democ 
racy —  everybody  just  as  good  as  the  next 
man  ;  that  is,  all  but  the  dogs.  They  sleep  on 
the  bunk-boards,  do  as  they  're  told,  and  eat 
salt  mule  and  dunderfunk — same  as  we  did 
goin'  out." 

"  Did  they  navigate  for  you?  Did  no  one 
have  charge  of  things  ?  " 

"  Poop-deck  picked  up  navigation,  and  we 
let  him  off  steerin'  and  standin'  lookout. 
Then  Seldom,  here,  he  wanted  to  be  captain 
just  once,  and  we  let  him  —  well,  look  at  our 
spars." 

"  Poop-deck?  Which  is  Poop-deck?  Do 
you  mean  to  say,"  asked  the  pilot  when  the 
navigator  had  been  indicated  to  him,  "that 
you  brought  this  ship  home  on  picked-up 
navigation  ?  " 

"  Did  n't  know  anything  about  it  when  we 
left  Callao,"  answered  the  sailor,  modestly. 
"The  steward  knew  enough  to  wind  the 


52        "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD" 

chronometer  until  I  learned  how.  We  made 
an  offing  and  steered  due  south,  while  I 
studied  the  books  and  charts.  It  did  n't 
take  me  long  to  learn  how  to  take  the  sun. 
Then  we  blundered  round  the  Horn  some 
how,  and  before  long  I  could  take  chronometer 
sights  for  the  longitude.  Of  course  I  know 
we  went  out  in  four  months  and  used  up  five 
to  get  back ;  but  a  man  can't  learn  the  whole 
thing  in  one  passage.  We  lost  some  time, 
too,  chasing  other  ships  and  buying  stores ; 
the  cabin  grub  gave  out." 

"  You  bought,  I  suppose,  with  Captain  Ben 
son's  money." 

"  S'pose  it  was  his.  We  found  it  in  his 
desk.  But  we  Ve  kept  account  of  every  cent 
expended,  and  bought  no  grub  too  good  for  a 
white  man  to  eat." 

"  What  dismasted  you  ?  " 

They  explained  the  meeting  with  the 
steamer  and  Seldom's  misdoing;  then  re 
quested  information  about  the  salvage  laws. 

"  Boys,"  said  the  pilot,  "  I  'm  sorry  for  you. 
I  saw  the  start  of  this  voyage,  and  you  appear 
to  be  decent  men.  You  '11  get  no  salvage ; 
you  '11  get  no  wages.  You  are  mutineers  and 
pirates,  with  no  standing  in  court.  Any  sal 
vage  which  the  Almena  has  earned  will  be 
paid  to  her  owners  and  to  the  three  men 
whom  you  deprived  of  command.  What  you 
can  get  —  the  maximum,  though  I  can't  say 
how  hard  the  judge  will  lay  it  on  —  is  ten 


"WHERE  ANGELS   FEAR  TO   TREAD"        53 

years  in  state's  prison,  and  a  fine  of  two 
thousand  dollars  each.  We  '11  have  to  stop  at 
quarantine.  Take  my  advice :  if  you  get  a 
chance,  lower  the  boats  and  skip." 

They  laughed  at  the  advice.  They  were 
American  citizens  who  respected  the  law. 
They  had  killed  no  one,  robbed  no  one ;  their 
wages  and  salvage,  independently  of  insur 
ance  liabilities,  would  pay  for  the  stores 
bought,  and  the  loss  of  the  spars.  They  had 
no  fear  of  any  court  of  justice  in  the  land  ;  for 
they  had  only  asserted  their  manhood  and 
repressed  inhuman  brutality. 

The  pilot  went  forward,  talked  awhile 
with  the  three,  and  left  them  with  joyous 
faces.  An  hour  later  he  pointed  out  the  Al- 
menas  number  flying  from  the  masthead  of 
the  steamer. 

"  He  's  telling  on  you,  boys,"  he  said.  "  He 
knew  you  when  you  helped  him,  and  used 
you,  of  course.  Your  reputation  's  pretty 
bad  on  the  high  seas.  See  that  signal-station 
ashore  there?  Well,  they  're  telegraphing 
now  that  the  pirate  Almena  is  coming  in. 
You  '11  see  a  police  boat  at  quarantine." 

He  was  but  partly  right.  Not  only  a 
police  boat,  but  an  outward-bound  man-of- 
war  and  an  incoming  revenue  cutter  escorted 
the  ship  to  quarantine,  where  the  tow-line 
was  cast  off,  and  an  anchor  dropped.  Then, 
in  the  persons  of  a  scandalized  health-officer, 
a  naval  captain,  a  revenue-marine  lieutenant, 


54         "WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

and  a  purple-faced  sergeant  of  the  steamboat 
squad,  the  power  of  the  law  was  rehabilitated 
on  the  A  Imenas  quarter-deck,  and  the  strong 
hand  of  the  law  closed  down  on  her  unruly 
crew.  With  blank  faces,  they  discarded  —  to 
shirts,  trousers,  and  boots  —  the  slop-chest 
clothing  which  belonged  to  the  triumphant 
Captain  Benson,  and  descended  the  side  to 
the  police  boat,  which  immediately  steamed 
away.  Then  a  chuckling  trio  entered  the 
ship's  cabin,  and  ordered  the  steward  to  bring 
them  something  to  eat. 

Now,  there  is  no  record  either  in  the  re 
ports  for  that  year  of  the  police  department, 
or  from  any  official  babbling,  or  from  later 
yarns  spun  by  the  sixteen  prisoners,  of  what 
really  occurred  on  the  deck  of  that  steamer 
while  she  was  going  up  the  bay.  Newspa 
pers  of  the  time  gave  generous  space  to  spec 
ulations  written  up  on  the  facts  discovered  by 
reporters  ;  but  nothing  was  ever  proved.  The 
facts  were  few.  A  tug  met  the  steamer  in 
the  Narrows  about  a  quarter  to  twelve  that 
morning,  and  her  captain,  on  being  ques 
tioned,  declared  that  all  seemed  well  with  her. 
The  prisoners  were  grouped  forward,  guarded 
by  eight  officers  and  a  sergeant.  A  little 
after  twelve  o'clock  a  Battery  boatman  ob 
served  her  coming,  and  hied  him  around  to 
the  police  dock  to  have  a  look  at  the  murder 
ous  pirates  he  had  heard  about,  only  to  see 


"WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREA-D"        55 

her  heading  up  the  North  River,  past  the 
Battery.  A  watchman  on  the  elevator  docks 
at  Sixty-third  Street  observed  her  charging 
up  the  river  a  little  later  in  the  afternoon, 
wondered  why,  and  spoke  of  it.  The  captain 
of  the  Mary  Powel,  bound  up,  reported  catch 
ing  her  abreast  of  Yonkers.  He  had  whistled 
as  he  passed,  and  though  no  one  was  in  sight, 
the  salute  was  politely  answered.  At  some 
time  during  the  night,  residents  of  Sing  Sing 
were  wakened  by  a  sound  of  steam  blowing 
off  somewhere  on  the  river ;  and  in  the  morn 
ing  a  couple  of  fishermen,  going  out  to  their 
pond-nets  in  the  early  dawn,  found  the  police 
boat  grounded  on  the  shoals.  On  boarding 
her  they  had  released  a  pinioned,  gagged, 
and  hungry  captain  in  the  pilot-house,  and  an 
engineer,  fireman,  and  two  deck-hands,  simi 
larly  limited,  in  the  lamp-room.  Hearing 
noises  from  below,  they  pried  open  the  nailed 
doors  of  the  dining-room  staircase,  and  liber 
ated  a  purple-faced  sergeant  and  eight  furious 
officers,  who  chased  their  deliverers  into  their 
skiff,  and  spoke  sternly  to  the  working-force. 
Among  the  theories  advanced  was  one,  by 
the  editor  of  a  paper  in  a  small  Lake  Ontario 
town,  to  the  effect  that  it  made  little  difference 
to  an  Oswego  sailor  whether  he  shipped  as 
captain,  mate,  engineer,  sailor,  or  fireman,  and 
that  the  officers  of  the  New  York  Harbor 
Patrol  had  only  under-estimated  the  caliber 
of  the  men  in  their  charge,  leaving  them  un- 


$6        " WHERE   ANGELS   FEAR   TO   TREAD" 

guarded  while  they  went  to  dinner.  But  his 
paper  and  town  were  small  and  far  away,  he 
could  not  possibly  know  anything  of  the  sub 
ject,  and  his  opinion  obtained  little  credence. 

Years  later,  however,  he  attended,  as  guest, 
a  meeting  and  dinner  of  the  Shipmasters'  and 
Pilots'  Association  of  Cleveland,  Ohio,  when  a 
resolution  was  adopted  to  petition  the  city  for 
a  harbor  police  service.  Captain  Monahan, 
Captain  Helward,  Captain  Peck,  and  Captain 
Cahill,  having  spoken  and  voted  in  the  nega 
tive,  left  their  seats  on  the  adoption  of  the 
proposition,  reached  a  clear  spot  on  the  floor, 
shook  hands  silently,  and  then,  forming  a 
ring,  danced  around  in  a  circle  (the  tails  of 
their  coats  standing  out  in  horizontal  rigidity) 
until  reproved  by  the  chair. 

And  the  editor  knew  why. 


THE  BRAIN  OF  THE  BATTLE 
SHIP 


BUILD  an  inverted  Harvey-steel  box  about 
eight  feet  high,  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  long,  half  as  wide,  with  walls  of  eighteen- 
inch  thickness,  and  a  roof  of  three,  and  you 
have  strong  protection  against  shot  and  shell. 
Build  up  from  the  ends  of  the  box  two  steel 
barbettes  with  revolving  turrets  as  heavy  as 
your  side-walls ;  place  in  each  a  pair  of  thir- 
teen-inch  rifles ;  flank  these  turrets  with  four 
others  of  eight-inch  wall,  each  holding  two 
eight-inch  guns;  these  again  with  four  smaller, 
containing  four  six-inch  guns,  and  you  have 
power  of  offense  nearly  equal  to  your  protec 
tion.  Loosely  speaking,  a  modern  gun-pro 
jectile  will,  at  short  range,  pierce  steel  equal 
to  itself  in  cross-section,  and  from  an  elevated 
muzzle  will  travel  as  many  miles  as  this  cross- 
section  measures  in  inches.  Placed  upon  an 
outlying  shoal,  this  box  with  its  guns  would 
make  an  efficient  fortress,  but  would  lack  the 
advantage  of  being  able  to  move  and  choose 
position. 

57 


58  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

Build  underneath  and  each  way  from  the 
ends  of  the  box  a  cellular  hull  to  float  it ; 
place  within  it,  and  below  the  box,  magazines, 
boilers,  and  engines ;  construct  above,  be 
tween  the  turrets,  a  lighter  superstructure  to 
hold  additional  quick-fire  guns  and  torpedo- 
tubes  ;  cap  the  whole  with  a  military  mast 
supporting  fighting-tops,  and  containing  an 
armored  conning-tower  in  its  base ;  man  and 
equip,  provision  and  coal  the  fabric,  and  you 
can  go  to  sea,  confident  of  your  ability  to 
destroy  everything  that  floats,  except  ice 
bergs  and  other  battle-ships. 

Of  these  essentials  was  the  first-class  coast- 
defense  battle-ship  Argyll.  She  was  of  ten 
thousand  tons  displacement,  and  was  pro 
pelled  by  twin  screws  which  received  ten 
thousand  horse-power  from  twin  engines 
placed  below  the  water-line.  Three  long 
tubes  —  one  fixed  in  the  stem,  two  movable  in 
the  superstructure —  could  launch  Whitehead 
torpedoes, —  mechanical  fish  carrying  two 
hundred  and  twenty  pounds  of  guncotton  in 
their  heads, —  which  sought  in  the  water  a 
twenty-foot  depth,  and  hurried  where  pointed 
at  a  thirty-knot  rate  of  speed.  Their  im 
pact  below  the  water-line  was  deadly,  and 
only  equaled  in  effect  by  the  work  of  the  ram- 
bow,  the  blow  of  the  ship  as  a  whole  —  the 
last  glorious,  suicidal  charge  on  an  enemy 
that  had  dismounted  the  guns,  if  such  could 
happen. 


THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  59 

Besides  her  thirteen-,  eight-,  and  six-inch 
guns,  she  carried  a  secondary  quick-fire  bat 
tery  of  twenty  six-pounders,  four  one-pound 
ers,  and  four  Catling  guns  distributed  about 
the  superstructure  and  in  the  fighting-tops. 
The  peculiar  efficacy  of  this  battery  lay  in  its 
menace  to  threatening  torpedo-boats,  and  its 
hostility  to  range-finders,  big-gun  sights,  and 
opposing  gunners.  A  torpedo-boat,  receiving 
the  full  attention  of  her  quick-fire  battery, 
could  be  disintegrated  and  sunk  in  a  yeasty 
froth  raised  by  the  rain  of  projectiles  long 
before  she  could  come  within  range  of  tor 
pedo  action ;  while  a  simultaneous  discharge 
of  all  guns  would  distribute  over  seven  thou 
sand  pounds  of  metal  with  foot-tons  of  energy 
sufficient  to  lift  the  ship  herself  high  out  of 
water.  Bristling,  glistening,  and  massive,  a 
reservoir  of  death  potential,  a  center  of  radiant 
destruction,  a  spitting,  chattering,  thundering 
epitome  of  racial  hatred,  she  bore  within  her 
steel  walls  the  ever-growing  burden  of  pro 
gressive  human  thought.  She  was  a  maker 
of  history,  a  changer  of  boundaries,  a  friend 
of  young  governments ;  and  it  chanced  that 
on  a  fine  tropical  morning,  in  company  with 
three  armored  cruisers,  four  protected  cruisers, 
and  a  fleet  of  torpedo-boats  and  destroyers, 
she  went  into  action. 

She  was  stripped  to  bare  steel  and  signal- 
halyards.  Davits,  anchors,  and  cables  were 
stowed  and  secured.  Ladders,  gratings. 


60  THE  BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

stanchions,  and  all  movable  deck- fittings  were 
below  the  water-line.  Wooden  bulkheads, 
productive  of  splinters,  were  knocked  down 
and  discarded,  while  all  boats,  with  the  plugs 
out,  were  overboard,  riding  to  a  sea-anchor 
made  up  of  oars  and  small  spars. 

The  crew  was  at  quarters.  Below,  in  the 
magazine,  handling-rooms,  stoke-holds,  and 
bunkers,  bare-waisted  men  worked  and  waited 
in  stifling  heat ;  for  she  was  under  forced 
draft,  and  compartments  were  closed,  even 
though  the  enemy  was  still  five  miles  away. 
The  chief  and  his  first  assistant  engineer 
watched  the  main  engines  in  their  twin  com 
partments,  while  the  subordinate  aids  and 
machinists  attended  to  the  dynamos,  motors,- 
and  auxiliary  cylinders  that  worked  the  tur 
rets,  pumps,  and  ammunition-hoists.  All 
boilers  were  hot  and  hissing  steam ;  all  fire- 
pumps  were  working ;  all  fire-hose  connected 
and  spouting  streams  of  water.  Perspiring 
men  with  strained  faces  deluged  one  another 
while  they  waited. 

In  the  turrets  were  the  gun-crews,  six  men 
to  a  gun,  with  an  officer  above  in  the  sight 
ing-hood  ;  behind  the  superstructure-ports 
were  the  quick-fire  men,  sailors  and  ma 
rines;  and  above  all,  in  the  fighting-tops, 
were  the  sharp-shooters  and  men  who  han 
dled  the  one-pounders  and  Catling  guns  — 
the  easiest-minded  of  the  ship's  company,  for 
they  could  see  and  breathe.  Each  division 


THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  61 

of  fighters  and  workers  was  overseen  by  an 
officer ;  in  some  cases  by  two  and  three. 

Preparatory  work  was  done,  and,  except 
ing  the  "  black  gang,"  men  were  quiescent, 
but  feverish.  Few  spoke,  and  then  on  frivo 
lous  things,  in  tones  that  were  not  recog 
nized.  Occasionally  a  man  would  bring  out 
a  piece  of  paper  and  write,  using  for  a  desk 
a  gun-breech  or  -carriage,  a  turret-wall,  or 
the  deck.  An  officer  in  a  fighting-top  used 
a  telegraph-dial,  and  a  stoker  in  the  depths 
his  shovel,  in  a  chink  of  light  from  the  fur 
nace.  These  letters,  written  in  instalments, 
were  pocketed  in  confidence  that  sometime 
they  would  be  mailed. 

From  the  captain  down  each  man  knew 
that  a  large  proportion  of  their  number  was 
foredoomed ;  but  not  a  consciousness  among 
them  could  admit  the  possibility  of  itself  be 
ing  chosen.  The  great  first  law  forbade  it. 
Senior  officers  pictured  in  their  minds  dead 
juniors,  and  thought  of  extra  work  after  the 
fight.  Junior  officers  thought  of  vacancies 
above  them  and  promotion.  Men  in  the  tur 
rets  bade  mental  good-by  to  their  mates  in 
the  superstructure ;  and  these,  secure  in  their 
five-inch  protection,  pitied  those  in  the  fight 
ing-tops,  where,  cold  logic  says,  no  man 
may  live  through  a  sea-fight.  Yet  all  would 
have  volunteered  to  fill  vacancies  aloft.  The 
healthy  human  mind  can  postulate  suffering, 
but  not  its  own  extinction. 


62  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

In  a  circular  apartment  in  the  military 
mast,  protected  by  twelve  inches  of  steel,  per 
forated  by  vertical  and  horizontal  slits  for  ob 
servation,  stood  the  captain  and  navigating 
officer,  both  in  shirt-sleeves ;  for  this,  the 
conning-tower,  was  hot.  Around  the  inner 
walls  were  the  nerve-terminals  of  the  structure 
—  the  indicators,  telegraph-dials,  telephones, 
push-buttons,  and  speaking-tubes,  which  com 
municated  with  gun-stations,  turrets,  steering- 
room,  engine-rooms,  and  all  parts  of  the  ship 
where  men  were  stationed.  In  the  forward 
part  was  a  binnacle  with  small  steering-wheel, 
disconnected  now,  for  the  steering  was  done 
by  men  below  the  water-line  in  the  stern.  A 
spiral  staircase  led  to  the  main-deck  below, 
and  another  to  the  first  fighting-top  above,  in 
which  staircase  were  small  platforms  where  a 
signal-officer  and  two  quartermasters  watched 
through  slits  the  signals  from  the  flag-ship, 
and  answered  as  directed  by  the  captain  below 
with  small  flags,  which  they  mastheaded 
through  the  hollow  within  the  staircase. 

The  chief  master-at-arms,  bareheaded, 
climbed  into  the  conning-tower. 

"  Captain  Blake,  what  '11  we  do  with  Finne- 
gan  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  Ve  released  him  from 
the  brig  as  you  ordered ;  but  Mr.  Clarkson 
won't  have  him  in  the  turret  where  he  belongs, 
and  no  one  else  wants  him  around.  They 
even  chased  him  out  of  the  bunkers.  He 
wants  to  work  and  fight,  but  Mr.  Clarkson 


THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  63 

won't  place  him ;  says  he  washes  his  hands 
of«  Finnegan,  and  sent  me  to  you.  I  took 
him  to  the  bay,  but  he  won't  take  medicine." 

Captain  Blake,  stern  of  face  and  kindly  of 
eye,  drew  back  from  a  peep-hole,  and  asked  : 
"  What  's  his  condition  ?  " 

"  Shaky,  sir.  Sees  little  spiders  and  big 
spiders  crawling  round  his  cap-rim.  Him 
and  the  recording  angel  knows  where  he  gets 
it  and  where  he  keeps  it,  sir ;  but  I  don't. 
I  Ve  watched  him  for  six  months." 

"  Send  him  to  me." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

The  master-at-arms  descended,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  unwanted  Finnegan  appeared — 
a  gray-bearded,  emaciated,  bleary-eyed  sea 
man,  who  brushed  imaginary  things  from  his 
neck  and  arms,  and  stammered,  as  he  re 
moved  his  cap  :  "  Report  for  duty,  sir." 

"  For  duty  ? "  answered  the  captain,  eying 
him  sternly.  "  For  death.  You  will  be  al 
lowed  the  honorable  death  of  an  English 
seaman.  You  will  die  in  the  fighting-top 
sometime  in  the  next  three  hours." 

The  man  shivered,  elevated  one  shoulder, 
and  rubbed  his  ear  against  it,  but  said  nothing, 
while  Mr.  Dalrymple,  the  navigating  officer, 
with  his  eyes  at  a  peep-hole  and  his  ears  open 
to  the  dialogue,  wondered  (as  he  and  the 
whole  ship's  company  had  wondered  before) 
what  the  real  relation  was  between  the  captain 
and  this  wretched,  drunken  butt  of  the  crew. 


64  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE  BATTLE-SHIP 

For  the  captain's  present  attitude  was  a  com 
plete  departure.  Always  he  had  shielded 
Finnegan  from  punishment  to  the  extent  that 
naval  etiquette  would  permit. 

"  I  have  tried  for  six  years,"  continued  the 
captain,  "  to  reform  you  and  hold  you  to  the 
manhood  I  once  knew  in  you ;  but  I  give  you 
up.  You  are  not  fit  to  live,  and  will  never 
be  fitter  to  die  than  this  morning,  when  the 
chance  comes  to  you  to  die  fighting  for  your 
country.  But  I  want  you  to  die  fighting.  Do 
you  wish  to  see  the  surgeon  or  the  chaplain  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no,  cappen ;  one  's  bad  as 
t'  other.  The  chaplain  '11  pray  and  the  doc 
tor  '11  fill  me  up  wi'  bromide,  and  it  just  makes 
me  crazy,  sir.  I  'm  all  right,  cappen,  if  I  only 
had  a  drink.  Just  give  me  a  drink,  cappen, 
—  the  doctor  won't, —  and  send  me  down  to 
my  station,  sir.  I  know  it  's  only  in  my  head, 
but  I  see  'em  plain,  all  round.  You  '11  give 
me  a  drink,  cappen,  please ;  I  know  you  '11 
give  me  a  drink." 

He  brushed  his  knees  gingerly,  and  stepped 
suddenly  away  from  an  isolated  speaking-tube. 
Captain  .Blake's  stern  face  softened.  His 
mind  went  back  to  his  midshipman  days,  to  a 
stormy  night  and  a  heavy  sea,  an  icy  foot- 
rope,  a  fall,  a  plunge,  and  a  cold,  hopeless  swim 
toward  a  shadowy  ship  hove  to  against  the 
dark  background,  until  this  man's  face,  young, 
strong,  and  cheery  then,  appeared  behind  a 


THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  65 

white  life-buoy  ;  and  he  heard  again  the  pant 
ing  voice  of  his  rescuer:  "  Here  ye  are,  Mr. 
Blake ;  boat  's  comin'." 

He  whistled  down  the  speaking-tube,  and 
when  answered,  called:  "Send  an  opened 
bottle  of  whisky  into  the  conning-tower — no 
glasses." 

"Thankee,  sir." 

The  captain  resumed  his  position  at  the 
peep-hole,  and  Finnegan  busied  himself  with 
his  troubles  until  a  Japanese  servant  appeared 
with  a  quart  bottle.  The  captain  received  it, 
and  the  Jap  withdrew. 

"  Help  yourself,  Finnegan,"  said  the  cap 
tain,  extending  the  bottle ;  "  take  a  good 
drink  —  a  last  one."  Finnegan  took  the  equiv 
alent  of  three.  "  Now,  up  with  you."  The 
captain  stood  the  bottle  under  the  binnacle. 
"  Upper  top.  Report  to  Mr.  Bates." 

"  Cappen,  please  send  me  down  to  the  tur 
ret  where  I  b'long,  sir.  I  'm  all  right  now. 
I  don't  want  to  go  up  there  wi'  the  sogers. 
I  'm  not  good  at  machine-guns." 

"  No  arguments.  Up  with  you  at  once. 
You  are  good  for  nothing  but  to  work  a  lever 
under  the  eye  of  an  officer." 

Finnegan  saluted  silently  and  turned  to 
ward  the  stairs. 

"  Finnegan  ! " 

He  turned.  The  captain  extended  his 
hand.  "Finnegan,"  he  said,  "I  don't  forget 


66  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

that  night,  but  you  must  go;  the  eternal  fit 
ness  of  things  demands  it.  Perhaps  I  '11  go, 
too.  Good-by." 

The  two  extremes  of  the  ship's  company 
shook  hands,  and  Finnegan  ascended.  When 
past  the  quartermasters  and  out  of  hearing, 
he  grumbled  and  whined:  "  No  good,  hey? 
Thirty  years  in  the  service,  and  sent  up  here 
to  think  of  my  sins  like  a  sick  monkey.  Good 
for  nothin'  but  to  turn  a  crank  with  the  sogers. 
Nice  job  for  an  able  seaman.  What  's  the 
blasted  service  a-comin'  to  ? " 

The  two  fleets  were  approaching  in  similar 
formation,  double  column,  at  about  a  twelve- 
knot  speed.  Leading  the  left  column  was 
the  Lancaster,  and  following  came  the  Argyll, 
Beaufort,  and  Atholl,  the  last  two,  like  the 
Lancaster,  armored  cruisers  of  the  first  class. 
On  the  Lancaster's  starboard  bow  was  the 
flag-ship  Cumberland,  a  large  unarmored 
cruiser,  and  after  her  came  the  Marlborough, 
Montr ose,  and  Sutherland,  unarmored  craft 
like  the  flag-ship,  equally  vulnerable  to  fire, 
the  two  columns  making  a  zigzag  line,  with 
the  heaviest  ships  to  the  left,  nearest  the 
enemy. 

Heading  as  they  were,  the  fleets  would 
pass  about  a  mile  apart.  Led  by  a  black, 
high-sided  monster,  the  left  column  of  the 
enemy  was  made  up  of  four  battle-ships  of 
uncouth,  foreign  design  and  murderous  ap 
pearance,  while  the  right  column  contained 


THE  BRAIN   OF  THE  BATTLE-SHIP  67 

the  flag-ship  and  three  others,  all  heavily 
armored  cruisers.  Flanking  each  fleet,  far  to 
the  rear,  were  torpedo-boats  and  destroyers. 

"We're  outclassed,  Dalrymple,"  said  Cap 
tain  Blake.  "There  are  the  ships  we  ex 
pected  —  Warsaw,  Riga,  Kharkov,  and  Mos 
cow  >  all  of  fighting  weight,  and  the  Obdorsk, 
Tobolsk,  Saratov,  and  Orenburg.  Leaving 
out  the  Argyll,  we  have  n't  a  ship  equal 
to  the  weakest  one  there.  This  fight  is  the 
Argyll's." 

"And  the  Argyll  is  equal  to  it,  captain. 
All  I  fear  is  torpedoes.  Of  course  our  ends 
and  superstructure  will  catch  it,  and  I  suppose 
we'll  lose  men  —  all  the  quick-fire  men,  per 
haps." 

"Those  in  the  tops  surely,"  said  the  cap 
tain.  "  Dalrymple,  what  do  you  think  ?  I 
don't  feel  right  about  Finnegan.  He  belongs 
in  the  turret,  and  I  Ve  sentenced  him.  Have 
I  the  right  ?  I  Ve  half  a  mind  to  call  him 
down."  He  pushed  a  button  marked  "  For 
ward  turret,"  and  listened  at  a  telephone. 

"Mr.  Clarkson!"  he  called.  "I  Ve  put 
your  man  Finnegan  in  the  upper  top ;  but  he 
seems  all  right  now.  Can  you  use  him  ?  " 

The  answer  came : 

"No,  sir;   I  Ve  filled  his  place." 

"  Die,  then.  On  my  soul  be  it,  Finnegan, 
poor  devil,"  muttered  the  captain,  gloomily. 

His  foot  struck  the  bottle  under  the  binna 
cle,  and,  on  an  impulse  due  to  his  mood,  he 


68  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

picked  it  up  and  uncorked  it.  Mr.  Dalrymple 
observed  the  action  and  stepped  toward  him. 

"  Captain,  pardon  me,"  he  said,  "if  I  pro 
test  unofficially.  We  are  going  into  action  — 
not  to  dinner." 

The  captain's  eyes  opened  wide  and  shone 
brighter,  while  his  lip  curled.  He  extended 
the  bottle  to  the  lieutenant. 

"The  apologies  are  mine,  Mr.  Dalrymple," 
he  said.  "  I  forgot  your  presence.  Take  a 
drink." 

The  officer  forced  a  smile  to  his  face,  and 
stepped  back,  shaking  his  head.  Captain 
Blake  swallowed  a  generous  portion  of  the 
whisky. 

"The  fool!"  mused  the  navigator,  as  he 
looked  through  the  peep-hole.  "The  whole 
world  is  watching  him  to-day,  and  he  turns  to 
whisky.  That  's  it,  dammit ;  that 's  the  bond 
of  sympathy :  Blake  and  Finnegan,  Finne- 
gan  and  Blake  —  dipsomaniacs.  Lord,  I 
never  thought.  I  've  seen  him  drunker  than 
Finnegan,  and  if  it  was  n't  for  his  position 
and  obligations,  he  'd  see  spiders,  too." 

Mr.  Dalrymple  was  not  the  only  one  on 
board  who  disapproved  of  "  Dutch  courage  " 
for  captains.  The  Japanese  servant,  whose 
station  was  at  the  forward-turret  ammunition- 
hoist,  reported  the  service  of  the  whisky  to 
his  mates,  and  from  here  the  news  spread  — 
as  news  will  in  a  cellular  hull  —  up  to  turrets 
and  gun-rooms,  through  speaking-tubes  and 


THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  69 

water-tight  bulkheads,  down  to  stoke-hold, 
engine-rooms,  and  steering-room ;  and  long 
before  Captain  Blake  had  thought  of  taking 
a  drink  the  whole  ship's  company  was  com 
menting,  mentally  and  openly,  and  more  or 
less  profanely,  on  the  story  that  "  the  old  man 
was  getting  drunk  in  the  conning-tower." 

And  another  piece  of  news  traveled  as  fast 
and  as  far  —  the  whereabouts  of  Finnegan. 
Mr.  Clarkson  had  incidentally  informed  his 
gun-captain,  who  told  the  gun-crew ;  and 
from  them  the  news  went  down  the  hoist  and 
spread.  Men  swore  louder  over  this ;  for 
though  they  did  not  want  Finnegan  around 
and  in  the  way,  they  did  not  want  him  to  die. 
Strong  natures  love  those  which  may  be 
teased  ;  and  not  a  heart  was  there  but  con 
tained  a  soft  spot  for  the  helpless,  harmless, 
ever  good-natured,  drunk,  and  ridiculous 
Finnegan. 

The  bark  of  an  eight-inch  gun  was  heard. 
Captain  Blake  saw,  through  the  slits  of  the 
conning-tower,  a  cloud  of  thinning  smoke 
drifting  away  from  the  flag-ship.  Stepping 
back,  he  rang  up  the  forward  turret. 

4 'Mr.  Clarkson,"  he  said  to  the  telephone 
when  it  answered  him,  "  remember :  aim  for 
the  nearest  water-line,  load  and  fire,  and  ex 
pect  no  orders  after  the  first  shot." 

Calling  up  the  officer  in  the  after-turret,  he 
repeated  the  injunction,  substituting  turrets 
as  the  object  of  assault.  He  called  to  the 


70  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

officers  at  the  eight-inch  guns  that  conning- 
towers  and  superstructure  were  to  receive 
their  attention ;  to  those  at  the  six-inch  guns 
to  aim  solely  at  turret  apertures ;  to  ensigns 
and  officers  of  marine  in  charge  of  the  quick- 
fire  batteries  to  aim  at  all  holes  and  men 
showing,  to  watch  for  torpedo-boats,  and, 
like  the  others,  to  expect  no  orders  after  the 
first  shot.  Then,  ringing  up  the  round  of 
gun-stations,  one  after  another,  he  sang  out, 
in  a  voice  to  be  heard  by  all :  "  Fire  away  !  " 
The  initial  gun  had  been  fired  from  the 
flag-ship  when  the  leading  ships  of  the  two 
fleets  were  nearly  abreast.  It  was  followed 
by  broadsides  from  all,  and  the  action  began. 
The  Argyll,  rolling  slightly  from  the  recoil  of 
her  guns,  smoked  down  the  line  like  a  thing 
alive,  voicing  her  message,  dealing  out  death 
and  receiving  it.  In  this  first  round  of  the 
battle  the  fire  of  the  eight  opposing  vessels 
was  directed  at  her  alone.  Shells  punctured 
her  vulnerable  parts,  and,  exploding  inside, 
killed  men  and  dismounted  guns.  The  groans 
of  the  stricken,  the  crash  of  steel  against  steel, 
the  roar  of  the  turret-guns,  the  rattling  chorus 
of  quick-fire  rifles,  and  the  drumming  of  heavy 
shells  against  the  armor  and  turrets  made  an 
uproarious  riot  of  sound  over  which  no  man 
above  the  water-line  could  lift  his  voice.  But 
there  were  some  there,  besides  the  dead, — 
men  who  worked  through  and  survived  the 
action, —  who,  after  the  first  impact  of  sound, 


THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  71 

did  not  hear  it,  nor  anything  else  while  they 
lived.  They  were  the  men  who  had  neglected 
stuffing  their  ears  with  cotton. 

A  fundamental  canon  of  naval  tactics  is  to 
maintain  formation.  Another  is  to  keep 
moving,  at  the  full  speed  of  the  slowest  ship, 
not  only  to  disconcert  the  enemy's  fire,  but  to 
obtain  and  hold  the  most  advantageous  posi 
tion —  if  possible,  to  flank  him.  As  these 
rules  apply  equally  well  to  both  sides,  it  is 
obvious  that  two  fleets,  passing  in  opposite 
directions,  and  each  trying  to  flank  the  rear 
of  the  other,  will  eventually  circle  around  a 
common  center  ;  and  if  the  effort  to  improve 
position  dominates  the  effort  to  evade  fire,  this 
circle  will  narrow  until  the  battle  becomes  a 
melee. 

The  two  lines,  a  mile  apart  and  each  about 
a  mile  in  length,  were  squarely  abreast  in  less 
than  five  minutes  from  the  time  of  firing  the 
first  gun  ;  and  by  now  the  furious  bombard 
ment  of  the  Argyll  by  eight  ships  had  ceased, 
for  each  one  found  it  more  profitable  to  deal 
with  its  vis-a-vis.  But  there  was  yet  a  deaf 
ening  racket  in  the  Argyll's  conning-tower 
as  small  projectiles  from  the  rear  battle- ship 
abreast  impinged  on  its  steel  walls ;  and  Cap 
tain  Blake,  his  ears  ringing,  his  eyes  stream 
ing,  half  stunned  by  the  noise,  almost 
blinded  and  suffocated  by  the  smoke  from  his 
forward  guns,  did  not  know  that  his  ship  had 
dropped  back  in  the  line  until  the  signal-offi- 


72  THE   BRAIN   OF  THE  BATTLE-SHIP 

cer  descended  and  shouted  in  his  ear  an  order 
signaled  from  the  admiral :  "  Move  ahead  to 
position." 

"  Hang  the  man  who  invented  conning- 
towers,"  he  muttered  angrily.  "  Keep  a 
lookout  up  there,  Mr.  Wright,"  he  shouted; 
"  I  can  see  very  little." 

The  officer  half  saluted,  half  nodded,  and 
ran  up  the  stair,  while  Captain  Blake  rang 
"full  speed"  to  the  engines.  The  indicators 
on  the  wall  showed  increased  revolution,  and 
he  resumed  his  place  at  the  peep-hole.  In 
a  few  moments  Mr.  Wright  reappeared  with 
a  message  from  the  flag-ship  to  "starboard 
helm ;  follow  ship  ahead." 

"  All  right.  Watch  out  up  there  ;  report  all 
you  see,"  he  answered.  Peeping  out,  he  saw 
the  Lancaster  and  the  Cumberland  sheer 
ing  to  port,  and  he  moved  the  lever  of  the 
steering-telegraph.  There  was  no  answering 
ring.  "  Shot  away,  by  George,"  he  growled. 
He  yelled  into  a  supplementary  voice-tube  to 
"  starboard  your  wheel  —  slowly."  This  was 
not  answered,  and  with  his  own  hands  he 
coupled  up  the  steering-wheel  on  the  binnacle 
and  gave  it  a  turn.  It  was  merely  a  gover 
nor,  which  admitted  steam  to  the  steering- 
engine,  and  there  was  no  resisting  pressure 
to  guide  him ;  but  a  helm  indicator  showed 
him  the  changed  position  of  the  rudder,  and, 
on  looking  ahead,  he  found  that  she  answered 
the  wheel ;  also,  on  looking  to  starboard,  he 


THE  BRAIN   OF   THE  BATTLE-SHIP  73 

found  that  he  had  barely  escaped  collision 
with  the  Montrose,  whose  fire  he  had  been 
masking,  to  the  scandal  of  the  admiral  and 
the  Montroses  officers. 

A  little  unnerved,  Captain  Blake  called 
down  a  seven-inch  tube  to  an  apartment  in 
the  depths, —  a  central  station  of  pipes  and 
wires,  to  be  used  as  a  last  resort, —  directing 
the  officer  on  post  to  notify  the  chief  engineer 
of  the  damage,  and  to  order  the  quartermas 
ters  in  the  steering-room  to  disconnect  their 
wheel  and  stand  by.  This  was  answered, 
and  the  captain  resumed  his  lookout,  one 
hand  on  the  wheel. 

"  Reduces  the  captain  of  the  ship  to  a 
helmsman,"  he  muttered. 

The  navigating  officer  approached,  indi 
cating  by  gesture  and  expression  his  inten 
tion  of  relieving  him,  but  was  waved  away. 

"  I  want  the  wheel  myself,"  shouted  the 
captain.  "  Devil  take  a  conning-tower,  any 
how  !  Keep  a  lookout  to  port.  But  say, 
Dalrymple,  send  up  for  Finnegan.  I  '11  not 
have  him  killed.  Get  him  down,  if  he 's  alive." 

Mr.  Dalrymple  ascended  the  stair  to  pass 
the  word  for  Finnegan,  but  did  not  come 
down.  He  had  reached  the  signal-platform, 
where  one  quartermaster  lay  dead,  and  was 
transmitting  the  order  to  Mr.  Wright,  when 
a  heavy  shell  struck  the  mast,  above  their 
heads  and  below  the  lower  top,  exploded  in 
side,  killed  the  three  men  on  the  platform, 


74  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

and  hurled  the  upper  part  of  the  mast,  with 
both  tops  full  of  dead  men  and  living,  high  in 
air.  The  conning-tower  was  filled  with  gas 
and  smoke;  but  Captain  Blake,  though 
burned  and  nearly  stripped  of  clothing  by  the 
blast  of  flame,  was  uninjured  by  the  flying 
fragments  of  the  shell.  Smarting,  gasping, 
and  choking,  fully  aware  of  the  complete  de 
struction  above,  his  mind  dwelt  for  an  instant 
on  the  man  who  had  once  saved  his  life,  whom 
he  had  sentenced  to  death.  He  looked  up 
the  hollow  within  the  wrecked  staircase,  but 
saw  nothing. 

Mr.  Clarkson,  however,  happened  to  be 
looking  through  an  upper  peep-hole  in  the 
sighting-hood  at  this  moment,  and  saw  the 
upper  half  of  the  mast  lift  and  turn ;  also, 
dimly  through  the  smoke,  he  noticed,  among 
the  dozen  of  men  hurled  from  the  tops,  the  blue- 
shirted  figure  of  one  whom  he  knew  to  be 
Finnegan,  clinging  at  arm's-length  in  mid 
air  to  a  Catling  gun,  which  had  been  torn 
from  its  fastenings.  Then  the  smoke  thick 
ened  and  shut  out  the  view ;  but  a  moment 
later  he  heard  the  rattling  crash  of  the  mast 
as  it  fell  upon  the  superstructure  beneath. 

"  The  whole  mast 's  gone,  boys,"  he  shouted 
to  his  crew —  "both  tops.  Finnegan  's  done 
for." 

And  the  story  of  Finnegan's  finish  went 
down  the  hoist  and  through  the  ship,  every 
where  received  with  momentary  sorrow,  and 


THE  BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  75 

increased  malediction  on  the  drunken  captain, 
who  thought  no  more  —  and  knew  no  more 
—  of  a  blue-jacket  than  to  masthead  him  with 
the  marines. 

The  tactics  of  both  admirals  being  the 
same,  and  the  speed  of  both  fleets  —  that  of 
their  slowest  ships — being  equal,  they  turned, 
and,  like  two  serpents  pursuing  each  other's 
tails,  charged  around  in  a  circle,  each  ship  fir 
ing  at  the  nearest  or  most  important  enemy. 
This  fire  was  destructive.  A  ship  a  mile  dis 
tant  is  a  point-blank  target  for  modern  guns 
and  gunners,  and  everything  protected  by 
less  than  eight  inches  of  steel  suffered.  The 
Argyll  had  lost  her  military  mast  and  most 
of  her  secondary  guns.  The  flag-ship  Cum 
berland,  raked  and  riddled  by  nine-  and 
eleven-inch  shells,  surrounded  herself  with 
steam  from  punctured  boilers  shortly  after 
the  signal  to  turn,  and  swung  drunkenly  out 
of  line,  her  boilers  roaring,  her  heavy  guns 
barking.  A  long,  black  thing,  low  down  be 
hind  the  wave  created  by  its  rush,  darted  by 
her,  unstruck  by  the  shells  sent  by  the  flag 
ship  and  the  Marlborough.  A  larger  thing, 
mouse-colored  and  nearly  hidden  by  a  larger 
wave,  was  coming  from  the  opposite  direction, 
spitting  one-pound  shot  at  the  rate  of  sixty  a 
minute,  but  without  present  avail ;  for  a  spin 
dle-shaped  object  left  the  deck  of  the  first 
when  squarely  abreast  of  the  helpless  flag 
ship,  diving  beneath  the  surface,  and  the  ex- 


76  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE  BATTLE-SHIP 

istence  and  position  of  this  object  were  hence 
forth  indicated  only  by  a  line  of  bubbles,  a 
darting  streak  of  froth,  traveling  toward  the 
Cumberland.  In  less  than  a  minute  it  had 
reached  her.  The  sea  alongside  arose  in  a 
mound,  and  she  seemed  to  lean  away  from  it ; 
then  the  mound  burst,  and  out  of  it,  and 
spouting  from  funnels,  ventilators,  and  ports, 
came  a  dense  cloud  of  smoke,  which  mingled 
with  the  steam  and  hid  her  from  view,  while 
a  dull,  booming  roar,  barely  distinguishable 
in  the  noise  of  battle,  came  across  the  water. 
When  the  cloud  thinned  there  was  nothing  to 
be  seen  but  heads  of  swimming  men,  who 
swam  for  a  time  and  sank.  The  flag-ship  had 
been  torpedoed. 

But  the  torpedo-boat  followed  her.  Pur 
sued  by  the  mouse-colored  destroyer,  she  cir 
cled  around  and  headed  back  in  the  endeavor 
to  reach  her  consorts ;  but  she  had  not  time. 
Little  by  little  the  avenger  crept  up,  pounding 
her  with  small  shot  and  shell,  until,  leaking 
from  a  hundred  wounds,  she  settled  beneath 
the  surface.  She  had  fulfilled  her  mission ; 
she  was  designed  to  strike  once  and  die. 

No  armored  cruiser  may  withstand  the  fire 
of  a  battle-ship.  The  Lancaster,  leading  the 
Argyll,  received  through  her  eight-inch  wa 
ter-line  belt  the  heavy  shot  and  shell  of  the 
Moscow  and  Orenburg.  Nine-  and  eleven -inch 
shell  fire,  sent  by  Canet  and  Hontoria  guns, 
makes  short  work  of  eight-inch  armor,  and  the 
doomed  Lancaster  settled  and  disappeared, 


THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  77 

her  crew  yelling,  her  screws  turning,  and  her 
guns  firing  until  the  water  swamped  her.  The 
following  Argyll  scraped  her  funnels  and 
masts  as  she  passed  over. 

Eight  hundred  feet  back  in  the  line  was  the 
Beaufort,  armored  like  the  Lancaster.  Her 
ending  was  dramatic  and  suicidal.  Drilled 
through  and  through  by  the  fire  of  the  Riga, 
she  fought  and  suffered  until  the  Lancaster 
foundered ;  then,  with  all  guns  out  of  action, 
but  with  still  intact  engine-power,  she  left  the 
line,  not  to  run,  but  to  ram.  The  circle  was 
narrowing,  but  she  had  fully  four  minutes  to 
steam  before  she  could  reach  the  opposite  side 
and  intercept  her  slayer.  And  in  this  short 
time  she  was  reduced  to  scrap-iron  by  the 
concentrated  fire  of  the  Warsaw,  Riga,  and 
Kharkov.  Every  shot  from  every  gun  on  the 
three  battle-ships  struck  the  unlucky  cruiser ; 
but  in  the  face  of  the  storm  of  flame  and  steel 
she  went  on,  exhaling  through  fissures  and 
ports  smoke  from  bursting  shells  and  steam 
from  broken  pipes.  Half-way  across,  an 
almost  solid  belching  upward  and  outward 
of  white  steam  indicated  a  stricken  boiler, 
and  from  now  on  her  progress  was  slow. 
She  was  visibly  lower  in  the  water  and  rolled 
heavily.  Soon  another  cloud  arose  from  her, 
her  headway  decreased,  and  she  came  to  a 
stop,  two  hundred  yards  on  the  port  bow  of 
the  onrushing  Riga,  whose  crew  yelled  deri 
sively —  whose  quick-fire  guns  still  punished 
her. 


78  THE   BRAIN   OF  THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

But  the  yells  suddenly  ceased  and  the  gun 
ners  changed  their  aim.  A  small  thing  had 
left  the  nearly  submerged  tube  in  the  cruiser's 
stem,  and  the  gunners  were  now  firing  at  a 
darting  line  of  bubbles,  obliterating  the  target 
for  a  moment  with  the  churning  of  the  water, 
only  to  see  the  frothy  streak  within  their 
range,  coming  on  at  locomotive  speed.  They 
aimed  ahead  ;  two  five-inch  guns  added  their 
clamor,  and  even  a  Hontoria  turret-gun 
voiced  its  roar  and  sent  its  messenger.  But 
the  bubbles  would  not  stop ;  they  entered  the 
bow  wave  of  the  battle-ship,  and  a  second 
later  the  great  floating  fort  separated  into  two 
parts,  with  a  crackling  thunder  of  sound  and 
an  outburst  of  flame  and  smoke  which  came 
of  nothing  less  than  an  exploded  magazine. 
The  two  halves  rolled  far  to  starboard,  then 
to  port,  shivered,  settled,  turned  completely 
over,  and  sank  in  a  turmoil  of  bursting  steam 
and  air-bubbles.  Three  minutes  later  the 
Beaufort  lifted  her  stern  and  dived  gently  after 
her  victim,  still  groaning  hoarsely  from  her 
punctured  iron  lungs.  In  her  death-agony 
she  had  given  birth  to  a  child  more  terrible 
than  a  battle-ship. 

The  rear  ship  of  the  inner  column,  the 
Atholl,  was  officially  an  armored  cruiser,  but 
possessed  none  of  the  attributes  of  the  cruiser 
class.  She  was  the  laggard  of  the  fleet,  and 
her  heaviest  guns  were  of  six-inch  caliber ; 
but,  being  designed  for  a  battle-ship,  she  car- 


THE  BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  79 

ried  this  temporary  battery  behind  sixteen 
inches  of  steel,  and  had  maintained  her  integ 
rity,  taking  harder  blows  than  she  could  give. 
With  the  going  down  of  the  Beaufort  she  took 
a  position  astern  of  the  Sutherland,  and  the 
double  line  of  battle  was  reduced  to  a  single 
line  ;  for  the  Argyll  had  left  the  column  when 
the  flag-ship  sank. 

And  this  is  why  the  overmatched,  battered, 
and  all  but  demoralized  cruisers  received  no 
more  attention  from  the  enemy  ;  it  were  wiser 
to  deal  with  the  Argyll.  The  Saratov,  blaz 
ing  fiercely  from  the  effects  of  a  well-planted 
shell,  had  drawn  out  of  line,  the  better  to  deal 
with  her  trouble.  Her  place  in  the  line  and 
that  of  the  sunken  Riga  were  filled  by  the 
following  ships  drawing  ahead ;  but  the  fleet 
still  held  to  double  column,  and  into  the  lane 
between  the  lines  the  Argyll  was  coming  at 
sixteen  knots,  breathing  flame,  vomiting  steel 
—  delivering  destruction  and  death. 

She  had  rounded  the  Moscow's  stern,  rak 
ing  her  as  she  came,  and  sending  armor- 
piercing  shells  through  her  citadel.  Some 
exploded  on  impact,  some  inside ;  all  did 
work.  An  eight-inch  projectile  entered  the 
after  turret-port,  and  silenced  the  gun  and 
gun-crew  forever.  Before  the  Argyll  was 
abeam  the  Moscow  had  ceased  firing.  Roll 
ing  and  smoking,  her  crew  decimated,  her 
guns  disabled  and  steering-gear  carried  away, 
she  swung  out  of  line ;  and  the  appearance  in 


8o  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

his  field  of  vision  of  several  rushing  waves 
with  short  smoke-stacks  behind,  and  the  sup 
plementary  pelting  his  ship  was  now  receiv 
ing  from  the  Marlborough,  decided  her  com 
mander  to  lower  his  flag. 

On  the  starboard  bow  of  the  Argyll  was 
the  armored  cruiser  Orenburg.  Her  fire,  hot 
and  true,  ceased  on  the  explosion  of  a  large 
shell  at  her  water-line,  and  she  swung  out  of 
the  fight,  silent  but  for  the  roar  of  escaping 
steam,  heeled  heavily  to  port,  and  sank  in  ten 
minutes,  her  ensigns  flying  to  the  last.  Mr. 
Clarkson  rejoiced  with  his  gun-crew.  He  had 
sent  the  shell. 

On  stormed  the  Argyll.  Her  next  adver 
sary  was  the  Kharkov,  a  battle-ship  nearly 
equal  in  guns  and  armor  to  herself,  but  not 
quite  —  by  an  inch.  And  that  inch  cost  her 
the  fight.  With  her  main  turrets  damaged, 
her  superstructure,  secondary  guns,  and  tor 
pedo-tubes  shot  away,  she  yielded  to  fate, 
and,  while  the  Argyll  passed  on,  hauled  down 
her  ensigns  at  the  request  of  a  torpedo-boat. 

Ahead  and  to  starboard  was  the  cruiser 
Tobolsk,  leaving  the  neighborhood  as  fast  as 
her  twin  screws  could  push  her.  Her  end 
was  in  sight ;  in  her  wake  were  two  gray  de 
stroyers,  and  behind,  charging  across  the 
broken  formation,  was  the  fleet  Marlborough. 
The  A rgyll  ignored  the  Tobolsk;  for  slowing 
down  to  await  her  coming  was  the  black  and 
high-sided  Warsaw,  the  monster  of  the  fleet, 


THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  81 

bristling  with  guns,  somber,  and  ominous  in 
her  silence. 

Ahead  of  her,  and  turning  to  port,  was  the 
flag-ship  Obdorsk,  also  slowed  down  ;  but  she 
promised  to  be  fully  occupied  with  the  Atholl, 
Sutherland,  and  Montrose,  who  had  wheeled 
in  their  tracks,  no  longer  obliged  to  traverse 
a  circle  to  reach  an  enemy. 

On  rushed  the  Argyll,  and  when  nearly  up 
to  the  Warsaw,  the  latter  gave  steam  to  her 
engines.  Breast  to  breast  the  gladiators 
charged  across  the  sea,  roaring,  flaming,  and 
smoking.  A  torpedo  left  the  side  of  the 
Warsaw,  pointed  diagonally  ahead,  to  inter 
cept  the  Argyll.  But  it  was  badly  aimed, 
and  the  hissing  bubbles  passed  under  her 
stern.  Before  another  could  be  discharged, 
the  torpedo-room,  located  by  the  Argyll's 
officers,  was  enlarged  to  the  size  of  three  by 
the  succeeding  bombardment  and  the  explo 
sion  of  the  remaining  torpedoes. 

Twelve-inch  armor  cannot  keep  out  thir- 
teen-inch  armor-piercing  shell,  and  torpedoes 
cannot  explode  on  board  without  damage  to 
machinery,  steering-gear,  and  vital  connec 
tions.  The  Warsaw  yawed,  slackened  speed, 
and  came  to  a  stop,  her  turret-guns  still  speak 
ing,  but  the  secondary  guns  silent.  The  Ar- 
gyll  circled  around  her,  sending  her  thirteen-, 
eight-,  and  six-inch  shells  into  her  victim  with 
almost  muzzle  energy.  The  two  military 
masts  of  the  Warsaw  sank,  and  dead  men 


82  THE   BRAIN   OF  THE  BATTLE-SHIP 

in  the  fighting-tops  were  flung  overboard. 
The  forward  turret  seemed  to  explode ; 
smoke  and  flame  shot  out  of  the  ports,  and 
its  top  lifted  and  fell.  Then  the  Argyll 
turned  and  headed  straight  for  her  side. 

There  was  little  need  of  gun  fire  now ;  but 
the  forward- turret  guns  belched  once  during 
the  charge,  and  the  more  quickly  handled 
eight-  and  six-inch  rifles  stormed  away  while 
there  was  time  to  reload.  Smoking,  rolling, 
and  barking, — ten  thousand  tons  of  inertia 
behind  a  solid  steel  knife,- — she  pounced  on 
her  now  silent  enemy.  There  was  a  crunch 
ing  sound,  muffled  and  continuous.  The 
speed  of  the  Argyll  seemed  hardly  checked. 
In  went  the  ram  farther  and  farther,  until  the 
slanting  edge  began  cutting  above  the  water. 
Then  the  Warsaw,  heeled  far  over  by  the 
impact,  rolled  back,  and  the  knife  cut  upward. 
The  smooth  plates  at  the  A  rgyll's  water-line 
wrinkled  like  paper,  and  the  pile  of  shattered 
steel  which  had  once  been  her  forward  deck 
and  bulkheads  was  shaken  up  and  adjusted  to 
new  positions ;  but  not  until  her  nose  was 
actually  buried  in  the  wound  —  until  the  War 
saw  was  cut  half  in  two  —  did  the  reversed 
engines  begin  to  work.  The  A  rgyll  backed 
out,  exposing  for  a  moment  a  hole  like  a  cav 
ern's  mouth ;  then  the  stricken  ship  rolled 
heavily  toward  her,  burying  the  sore,  and, 
humming  and  buzzing  with  exhausting  steam 
and  rushing  air,  settled  rapidly  and  sank,  while 


THE  BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  83 

out  from  ports,  doors,  and  nearly  vertical 
hatches  came  her  crew,  as  many  as  could. 
They  sprang  overboard  and  swam,  and  those 
that  reached  the  now  stationary  Argyll  were 
rescued ;  for  a  cry  had  gone  through  the  lat 
ter  from  the  central  station  in  her  depths  : 
"  All  hands  on  deck  to  save  life  !  Bring  lad 
ders,  life-buoys,  and  ropes'  ends  !  " 

The  battle  was  ended  ;  for,  with  the  ram 
ming  of  the  Warsaw,  the  Obdorsk  struck  to 
the  three  ships  circling  around  her.  They 
had  suffered,  but  the  battle-ship  Argyll  was 
reduced  to  a  monitor.  Her  superstructure 
and  the  bow  and  stern  above  the  water-line 
were  shattered  to  a  shapeless  tangle  of  steel. 
What  was  left  of  her  funnels  and  ventilators 
resembled  nutmeg-graters,  and  she  was  per 
ceptibly  down  by  the  head ;  for  her  bow 
leaked  through  its  wrinkled  plates,  and  the 
forward  compartment  below  the  protective 
deck  was  filled.  Yet  she  could  still  fight  in 
smooth  water.  Her  box-like  citadel  was  in 
tact,  and  standing  naked  out  of  the  wreck, 
scarred  and  dented,  but  uninjured,  were  the 
turrets,  ammunition-hoists,  and  conning-tower. 
In  the  latter  was  the  brain  of  the  ship,  that 
had  fought  her  to  victory  and  then  sent  the 
call  to  her  crew  to  save  the  lives  of  their 
enemies. 

Two  men  met  on  a  level  spot  amidships 
and  clasped  hands.  Both  were  bare-waisted 
and  grimy,  and  one  showed  red  as  a  lob- 


84  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

ster  under  the  stains.  He  was  the  chief 
engineer. 

"  We  Ve  won,  Clarkson,"  he  said.  "  We  Ve 
won  the  hottest  fight  that  history  can  tell 
of —  won  it  ourselves ;  but  he  '11  get  the 
credit." 

"And  he  's  drunk  as  a  lord — -drunk 
through  it  all.  What  did  he  ram  for  ?  Why 
did  he  send  two  millions  of  prize-money  to 
the  bottom?  O  Lord!  O  Lord!  it 's  enough  to 
make  a  man  swear  at  his  mother.  WTe  had 
her  licked.  Why  did  he  ram  ?  " 

"  Because  he  was  drunk,  that  's  why.  He 
rang  seven  bells  to  me  along  at  the  first  of 
the  muss,  and  then  sent  word  through  young 
Felton  that  he  wanted  full  speed.  Dammit, 
he  already  had  it,  every  pound  of  it.  And  he 
gave  me  no  signal  to  reverse  when  we  struck ; 
if  it  was  n't  for  luck  and  a  kind  Providence 
we  'd  have  followed  the  Warsaw.  I  barely 
got  her  over.  Here,  Mr.  Felton  ;  you  were 
in  the  central,  were  you  not  ?  How  'd  the 
old  man  appear  to  be  making  it?  Were  his 
orders  intelligible  ?  " 

A  young  man  hadjoined  them,  hot,  breath 
ing  hard,  and  unclothed. 

"  Not  always,  sir  ;  I  had  to  ask  him  often 
to  repeat,  and  then  I  sometimes  got  another 
order.  He  kept  me  busy  from  the  first,  when 
he  sent  the  torpedoes  overboard." 

"  The  torpedoes  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Clarkson. 
"  Did  we  use  them  ?  I  did  n't  know  it." 


THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  85 

"  He  was  afraid  they  'd  explode  on  board, 
sir,"  he  said.  "  That  was  just  after  we  took 
full  speed." 

"And  just  before  he  got  too  full  to  be 
afraid  of  anything,"  muttered  the  lieutenant. 
"Why  don't  he  come  out  of  that?"  He 
glanced  toward  the  conning-tower.  Other 
officers  had  joined  them. 

"  We  '11  investigate,"  said  Mr.  Clarkson. 

The  door  on  the  level  of  the  main-deck 
leading  into  the  mast  was  found  to  be  wedged 
fast  by  the  blow  of  a  projectile.  Men,  naked 
and  black,  sprawled  about  the  wreckage 
breathing  fresh  air,  were  ordered  to  get  up 
and  to  rig  a  ladder  outside.  They  did  so, 
and  Mr.  Clarkson  ascended  to  the  ragged 
end  of  the  hollow  stump  and  looked  down. 
Standing  at  the  wheel,  steering  the  drifting 
ship  with  one  hand  and  holding  an  empty 
bottle  in  the  other,  was  a  man  with  torn  cloth 
ing  and  bloody  face.  In  spite  of  the  disfig 
urement  Mr.  Clarkson  knew  him.  Jammed 
into  the  narrow  staircase  leading  below  was 
the  body  of  a  man  partly  hidden  by  a  Catling 
gun,  the  lever  of  which  had  pierced  the 
forehead. 

"  Finnegan,"  yelled  the  officer,  "  how  'd  you 
get  there  ?  " 

The  man  at  the  wheel  lifted  a  bleary  eye 
and  blinked  ;  then,  unsteadily  touching  his 
forehead,  answered  :  "  Fe'  dow'-shtairs,  shir." 

"  Come  out  of  that !   On  deck  there!   Take 


86  THE   BRAIN   OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP 

the  wheel,  one  hand,  and  stand  by  it !  "  Mr. 
Clarkson  descended  to  the  others  with  a  se 
rious  look  on  his  grimy  face,  and  a  sailor 
climbed  the  ladder  and  went  down  the  mast. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  first  lieutenant,  im 
pressively,  "  we  were  mistaken,  and  we 
wronged  Captain  Blake.  He  is  dead.  He 
died  at  the  beginning.  He  lies  under  a  Gat- 
ling  gun  in  the  bottom  of  the  tower.  I  saw 
Finnegan  hanging  to  that  gun,  whirling 
around  it,  when  the  mast  blew  up.  It  is  all 
plain  now.  Finnegan  and  the  gun  fell  into 
the  tower.  Finnegan  may  have  struck  the 
stairs  and  rolled  down,  but  the  gun  went 
down  the  hollow  within  and  killed  the  cap 
tain.  We  have  been  steered  and  commanded 
by  a  drunken  man  —  but  it  was  Finnegan." 

Finnegan  scrambled  painfully  down  the 
ladder.  He  staggered,  stumbled,  and  fell  in 
a  heap. 

"  Rise  up,"  said  Mr.  Clarkson,  as  they  sur 
rounded  him  ;  "  rise  up,  Daniel  Drake  Nelson 
Farragut  Finnegan.  You  are  small  pota 
toes  and  few  in  the  hill  ;  you  are  shamefully 
drunk,  and  your  nose  bleeds  ;  you  are  stricken 
with  Spanish  mildew,  and  you  smell  vilely  — 
but  you  are  immortal.  You  have  been  a  dis 
grace  to  the  service,  but  Fate  in  her  gentle 
irony  has  redeemed  you,  permitting  you,  in 
one  brief  moment  of  your  misspent  life,  to 
save  to  your  country  the  command  of  the 
seas  —  to  guide,  with  your  subconscious  in- 


THE   BRAIN    OF   THE   BATTLE-SHIP  87 

telligence,  the  finest  battle-ship  the  science  of 
the  world  has  constructed  to  glorious  victory, 
through  the  fiercest  sea-fight  the  world  has 
known.  Rise  up,  Daniel,  and  see  the  sur 
geon." 

But  Finnegan  only  snored. 


THE   WIGWAG   MESSAGE 


AS  eight  bells  sounded,  Captain  Bacon  and 
/"Y  Mr.  Knapp  came  up  from  breakfast, 
and  Mr.  Hansen,  the  squat  and  square-built 
second  mate,  immediately  went  down.  The 
deck  was  still  wet  from  the  morning  washing 
down,  and  forward  the  watch  below  were 
emerging  from  the  forecastle  to  relieve  the 
other  half,  who  were  coiling  loosely  over  the 
top  of  the  forward  house  a  heavy,  wet  haw 
ser  used  in  towing  out  the  evening  before. 
They  were  doing  it  properly,  and  as  no  pres 
ent  supervision  was  necessary,  the  first  mate 
remained  on  the  poop  for  a  few  moments'  fur 
ther  conversation  with  the  captain. 

"  Poor  crew,  cap'n,"  he  said,  as,  picking 
his  teeth  with  the  end  of  a  match,  he  scanned 
the  men  forward.  "  It  '11  take  me  a  month 
to  lick  'em  into  shape." 

To  judge  by  his  physique,  a  month  was  a 
generous  limit  for  such  an  operation.  He 
was  a  giant,  with  a  giant's  fist  and  foot ;  red- 
haired  and  bearded,  and  of  sinister  counte- 

88 


THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE  89 

nance.  But  he  was  no  more  formidable  in 
appearance  than  his  captain,  who  was  equally 
big,  but  smooth-shaven,  and  showing  the 
square  jaw  and  beetling  brows  of  a  born 
fighter. 

"  Are  the  two  drunks  awake  yet?"  asked 
the  latter. 

"  Not  at  four  o'clock,  sir,"  answered  the 
mate.  "  Mr.  Hansen  could  n't  get 'em  out. 
I  '11  soon  turn  'em  to." 

As  he  spoke,  two  men  appeared  from 
around  the  corner  of  the  forward  house,  and 
came  aft.  They  were  young  men,  between 
twenty-five  and  thirty,  with  intelligent,  sun 
burnt  faces.  One  was  slight  of  figure,  with 
the  refinement  of  thought  and  study  in  his 
features ;  the  other,  heavier  of  mold  and 
muscular,  though  equally  quick  in  his  move 
ments,  had  that  in  his  dark  eyes  which 
said  plainly  that  he  was  wont  to  supple 
ment  the  work  of  his  hands  with  the  work 
of  his  brain.  Both  were  dressed  in  the  tar- 
stained  and  grimy  rags  of  the  merchant  sailor 
at  sea ;  and  they  walked  the  wet  and  un 
steady  deck  with  no  absence  of  "  sea-legs," 
climbed  the  poop  steps  to  leeward,  as  was 
proper,  and  approached  the  captain  and  first 
mate  at  the  weather  rail.  The  heavier  man 
touched  his  cap,  but  the  other  merely  inclined 
his  head,  and  smiling  frankly  and  fearlessly 
from  one  face  to  the  other,  said,  in  a  pleas 
ant,  evenly  modulated  voice : 


90  THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE 

"Good  morning.  I  presume  that  one  of 
you  is  the  captain." 

"  I  'm  the  captain.  What  do  you  want  ?  " 
was  the  gruff  response. 

"  Captain,  I  believe  that  the  etiquette  of 
the  merchant  service  requires  that  when  a 
man  is  shanghaied  on  board  an  outward- 
bound  ship  he  remains  silent,  does  what  is 
told  him  cheerfully,  and  submits  to  fate  until 
the  passage  ends ;  but  we  cannot  bring  our 
selves  to  do  so.  We  were  struck  down  in  a 
dark  spot  last  night, —  sandbagged,  I  should 
say, —  and  we  do  not  know  what  happened 
afterward,  though  we  must  have  been  kept 
unconscious  with  chloroform  or  some  such 
drug.  We  wakened  this  morning  in  your 
forecastle,  dressed  in  these  clothes,  and 
robbed  of  everything  we  had  with  us." 

"  Where  were  you  slugged  ?  " 

"  In  Cherry  Street.  The  bridge  cars  were 
not  running,  so  we  crossed  from  Brooklyn  by 
the  Catherine  Ferry,  and  foolishly  took  a 
short  cut  to  the  elevated  station." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"What  —  why  —  why,  captain,  that  you 
will  kindly  put  us  aboard  the  first  inbound 
craft  we  meet." 

"  Not  much  I  won't,"  answered  the  cap 
tain,  decidedly.  "  You  belong  to  my  crew. 
I  paid  for  twenty  men  ;  and  you  two  and  two 
others  skipped  at  the  dock.  I  had  to  wait 
all  day  in  the  Horseshoe.  You  two  were 


THE   WIGWAG   MESSAGE  91 

caught  dead  drunk  last  night,  and  came  down 
with  the  tug.  That  's  what  the  runners  said, 
and  that  's  all  I  know  about  it.  Go  forrard." 

"  Do  you  mean,  captain  —  " 

"  Go  forrard  where  you  belong.  Mr.  Knapp, 
set  these  men  to  work." 

Captain  Bacon  turned  his  back  on  them, 
and  walked  away. 

"  Get  off  the  poop,"  snarled  the  mate. 
"  Forrard  wi'  you  both !  " 

"  Captain,  I  advise  you  to  reconsider — " 

The  words  were  stopped  by  a  blow  of  the 
mate's  fist,  and  the  speaker  fell  to  the  deck. 
Then  a  hoarse  growl  of  horror  and  rage  came 
from  his  companion ;  and  Captain  Bacon 
turned,  to  see  him  dancing  around  the  first 
officer  with  the  skill  and  agility  of  a  profes 
sional  boxer,  planting  vicious  blows  on  his 
hairy  face  and  neck. 

"  Stop  this,"  roared  the  captain,  as  his  right 
hand  sought  the  pocket  of  his  coat.  "  Stop 
it,  I  say.  Mr.  Hansen,"  he  called  down  the 
skylight,  "on  deck,  here." 

The  huge  mate  was  getting  the  worst  of 
the  unexpected  battle,  and  Captain  Bacon 
approached  cautiously.  His  right  hand  had 
come  out  of  his  pocket,  armed  with  large 
brass  knuckles  ;  but  before  he  could  use  them 
his  dazed  and  astonished  first  officer  went 
down  under  the  rain  of  blows.  It  was  then, 
while  the  victor  waited  for  him  to  rise,  that 
the  brass  knuckles  impacted  on  his  head,  and 


92  THE  WIGWAG    MESSAGE 

he,  too,  went  down,  to  lie  quiet  where  he  fell. 
The  other  young  man  had  arisen  by  this 
time,  somewhat  shocked  and  unsteady  in 
movement,  and  was  coming  bravely  toward 
the  captain ;  but  before  he  could  reach  him 
his  arms  were  pinioned  from  behind  by  Mr. 
Hansen,  who  had  run  up  the  poop  steps. 

"  What  is  dis,  onnyway  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Mu- 
diny,  I  dink?" 

"  Let  go,"  said  the  other,  furiously.  "You 
shall  surfer  for  this,  you  scoundrels.  Let  go 
of  my  arms."  He  struggled  wildly;  but  Mr. 
Hansen  was  strong. 

Mr.  Knapp  had  regained  his  feet  and  a  few 
of  his  faculties.  His  conqueror  was  senseless 
on  the  deck,  but  this  other  mutineer  was  still 
active  in  rebellion.  So,  while  the  approving 
captain  looked  on  in  brass-knuckled  dignity, 
he  sprang  forward  and  struck,  with  strength 
born  of  his  rage  and  humiliation,  again  and 
again  at  the  man  helpless  in  the  arms  of  Mr. 
Hansen,  until  his  battered  head  sank  supinely 
backward,  and  he  struggled  no  more.  Then 
Mr.  Hansen  dropped  him. 

"  Lay  aft,  here,  a  couple  o'  hands,"  thun 
dered  the  captain  from  the  break  of  the  poop, 
and  two  awe-struck  men  obeyed  him.  The 
whole  crew  had  watched  the  fracas  from  for 
ward,  and  the  man  at  the  wheel  had  looked 
unspeakable  things  ;  but  no  hand  or  voice 
had  been  raised  in  protest.  One  at  a  time 
they  carried  the  unconscious  men  to  the  fore- 


THE   WIGWAG   MESSAGE  93 

castle ;  then  the  crew  mustered  aft  at  another 
thundering  summons,  and  listened  to  a  force 
ful  speech  by  Captain  Bacon,  delivered  in 
quick,  incisive  epigrams,  to  the  effect  that  if 
a  man  aboard  his  ship  —  whether  he  believed 
himself  shipped  or  shanghaied,  a  sailor,  a 
priest,  a  policeman,  or  a  dry-nurse  —  showed 
the  slightest  hesitation  at  obeying  orders,  or 
the  slightest  resentment  at  what  was  said  to 
him,  he  would  be  punished  with  fists,  brass 
knuckles,  belaying-pins,  or  handspikes, —  the 
officers  were  here  for  that  purpose, —  and  if  he 
persisted,  he  would  be  shot  like  a  mad  dog. 
They  could  go  forward. 

They  went,  and  while  the  watch  on  deck, 
under  the  supervision  of  the  second  mate,  fin 
ished  coiling  down  the  tow-line,  the  watch 
below  finished  their  breakfast,  and  when  the 
stricken  ones  had  recovered  consciousness, 
advised  them,  unsympathetically,  to  submit 
and  make  the  best  of  it  until  the  ship  reached 
Hong-Kong,  where  they  could  all  "  jump  her  " 
and  get  better  berths. 

"  For  if  ye  don't,"  concluded  an  Irishman, 
"  I  take  it  ye  '11  die,  an'  take  sam  wan  of  us  wid 
ye ;  fur  this  is  an  American  ship,  where  the 
mates  are  hired  fur  the  bigness  o'  their  fists 
an'  the  hardness  o'  their  hearts.  Look  pleas 
ant,  now,  the  pair  o'  ye ;  an'  wan  o'  ye  take 
this  hash-kid  back  to  the  galley." 

The  larger  of  the  two  victims  sprang  to  his 
feet.  He  was  stained  and  disfigured  from  the 


94  THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE 

effects  of  the  brass  knuckles,  and  he  looked 
anything  but  "  pleasant." 

"Say,  Irish,"  he  said  angrily,  "do  you 
know  who  you  're  talkin'  to?  Looks  as 
though  you  don't.  I  'm  used  to  all  sorts  of 
guff  from  all  sorts  of  men,  but  Mr.  Breen, 
here  —  " 

"Johnson,"  interrupted  the  other,  "wait  — 
it 's  of  no  account  now.  This  man's  advice  is 
sound.  No  one  would  believe  us,  and  we 
can  prove  nothing.  We  are  thoroughly  help 
less,  'and  must  submit  until  we  reach  a  consu 
lar  port,  or  something  happens.  Now,  men," 
he  said  to  the  others,  "  my  name  is  Breen. 
Call  me  by  it.  You,  too,  Johnson.  I  yield 
to  the  inevitable,  and  will  do  my  share  of  the 
work  as  well  as  I  can.  If  I  make  mistakes, 
don't  hesitate  to  criticize,  and  post  me,  if  you 
will.  I  '11  be  grateful." 

"  But  I  '11  tell  you  one  thing  to  start  with," 
said  Johnson,  glaring  around  the  forecastle  : 
"we  '11  take  turns  at  bringin'  grub  and  clean- 
in'  up  the  forecastle.  Another  thing  :  I  Ve 
sailed  in  these  wind-jammers  enough  to  know 
my  work ;  and  that  's  more  than  you  fellows 
know,  by  the  looks  of  you.  I  don't  want 
your  instructions ;  but  Mr.  Breen,  here  — 
Breen,  I  mean  "  (a  gesture  from  the  other  had 
interrupted  him)  —  "  Breen  's  forgotten  what 
you  and  I  will  never  learn,  though  he  might 
not  be  used  to  pullin'  ropes  and  swabbin' 
paint-work.  If  I  find  one  o'  you  pesterin' 


THE   WIGWAG   MESSAGE  95 

him,  or  puttin'  up  any  jobs,  I  '11  break  that 
man's  head  ;  understand  me  ?  Any  one  want 
to  put  this  thing  to  the  test,  now  ? "  He 
scanned  each  man's  face  in  turn ;  but  none 
showed  an  inclination  to  respond.  They  had 
seen  him  fight  the  big  first  mate.  "  There  's 
not  the  makin'  of  a  whole  man  among  you," 
he  resumed.  "  You  stand  still  while  three 
men  do  up  two,  when,  if  you  had  any  nerve, 
Mr.  —  Breen,  here,  might  be  aft,  'stead  o' 
eatin'  cracker-hash  with  a  lot  o'  dock-rats 
and  beach-combers.  He  's  had  better  play 
mates  ;  so  Ve  I,  for  that  matter,  o'  late  years." 

"  Johnson,  keep  still,"  said  the  other.  "It 
does  n't  matter  what  we  have  had,  who  we 
were  or  might  be.  We  're  before  the  mast, 
bound  for  Hong-Kong.  We  may  find  a  con 
sul  at  Anjer;  I  'm  not  sure.  Meanwhile,  I  'm 
Breen,  and  you  are  Johnson,  and  it  is  no 
one's  business  what  we  have  been.  I  'm  not 
anxious  for  this  matter  to  become  public.  I 
can  explain  to  the  department,  and  no  one 
else  need  know." 

''Very  good,  sir." 

"No;  not  'sir.'     Keep  that  for  our  supe 


riors." 


Johnson  grumbled  a  little  ;  then  Mr.  Han- 
sen's  round  Swedish  face  appeared  at  the 
door. 

"  Hi,  you  in  dere  —  you  big  feller  —  you 
come  out.  You  belong  in  der  utter  watch. 
You  hear  ?  You  come  out  on  deck,"  he  called. 


96  THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE 

"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  said  Johnson,  rising  sul 
lenly. 

"  All  the  better,  Johnson,"  whispered  Breen. 
"  One  can  keep  a  lookout  all  the  time.  Keep 
your  eyes  open  and  your  mouth  shut." 

So  for  these  two  men  the  work  of  the  voy 
age  began.  The  hard-headed,  aggressive 
Johnson,  placed  in  the  mate's  watch,  had  no 
trouble  in  finding  his  place,  and  keeping  it,  at 
the  top  of  the  class.  He  ruled  the  assorted 
types  of  all  nations,  who  worked  and  slept 
with  him,  with  sound  logic  backed  by  a  strong 
arm  and  hard  fist,  never  trying  to  conceal 
his  contempt  for  them. 

"You  mixed  nest  o'  mongrels,"  he  would 
say,  at  the  end  of  some  petty  squabble  which 
he  had  settled  for  them,  "why  don't  you  stay 
in  your  own  country  ships?  Or,  if  you 
must  sign  in  American  craft,  try  to  feel  and 
act  like  Americans.  It 's  just  this  same  yawp 
ing  at  one  another  in  the  forecastles  that 
makes  it  easy  for  the  buckoes  aft  to  hunt  you. 
And  that  's  why  you  get  your  berths.  No 
skipper  '11  ship  an  American  sailor  while 
there  's  a  Dutchman  left  in  the  shippin'-of- 
fice.  He  would  n't  think  it  safe  to  go  to  sea 
with  too  many  American  sailors  forward  to 
call  him  down  and  make  him  treat  'em  decent. 
He  picks  a  Dago  here,  and  a  Dutchman 
there,  and  all  the  Sou'wegians  he  sees,  and 
fills  in  with  the  rakin's  and  scrapin's  o'  Hell, 
Bedlam,  and  Newgate,  knowin'  they  '11  hate 


THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE  97 

one  another  worse  than  they  hate  him,  and 
never  stand  together." 

To  which  they  would  respond  in  kind, 
though  of  lesser  degree,  always  yielding  him 
the  last  word  when  he  spoke  it  loud  enough. 

But  Breen,  in  the  second  mate's  watch,  had 
trouble  with  his  fellows  at  first  They  could 
not  understand  his  quiet,  gentlemanly  de 
meanor,  mistaking  it  for  fear  of  them  ;  so,  un 
known  to  Johnson,  for  he  would  not  com 
plain,  they  subjected  him  to  all  the  petty 
annoyances  which  ignorance  may  inflict  upon 
intelligence.  Though  he  showed  a  theoretical 
knowledge  of  ships  and  the  sea  superior  to  any 
they  had  met  with,  he  was  not  their  equal  in  the 
practical  work  of  a  sailor.  He  was  awkward  at 
pulling  ropes  with  others,  placing  his  hands 
in  the  wrong  place  and  mixing  them  up  in 
what  must  be  a  concerted  pull  to  be  effective. 
His  hands,  unused  to  labor,  became  blistered 
and  sore,  and  he  often,  unconsciously  perhaps, 
held  back  from  a  task,  to  save  himself  from 
pain.  He  was  an  indifferent  helmsman,  and 
off  Hatteras,  in  a  blow,  was  sent  from  the 
wheel  in  disgrace.  He  did  not  know  the 
ropes,  and  made  sad  mistakes  until  he  had 
mastered  the  lesson.  He  could  box  the  com 
pass,  in  his  own  way ;  for  instance,  the  quar 
ter-points  between  north-northeast  and  north 
east  by  north  he  persisted  in  naming  from  the 
first  of  these  points  instead  of  from  the  other, 
as  was  seamanlike  and  proper ;  and  the  same 


98  THE   WIGWAG   MESSAGE 

with  the  corresponding  sectors  in  the  other 
quadrants.  Once,  at  the  wheel,  when  the 
ship  was  heading  southeast  by  south  half- 
south,  he  had  been  asked  the  course,  and 
answered:  "South-southeast  half-east,  sir." 
For  this  he  was  profanely  admonished  by  the 
captain  and  ridiculed  by  the  men.  Johnson 
had  made  the  same  mistake,  but  corrected 
himself  in  time,  and  nothing  was  said  about 
it;  but  Breen  was  bullied  and  badgered  in 
the  watch  below, —  the  lubberly  nomencla 
ture  becoming  a  byword  of  derision  and 
contempt, —  until,  patience  leaving  him,  he 
doubled  his  sore  fingers  into  fists  one  dog 
watch,  and  thrashed  the  Irishman  —  his  most 
unforgiving  critic  —  so  quickly,  thoroughly, 
and  scientifically  that  persecution  ceased ;  for 
the  Irishman  had  been  the  master  spirit  of 
the  port  forecastle. 

But  the  captain  and  mates  were  not  won 
over.  Practical  Johnson  —  an  able  seaman 
from  crown  to  toe  —  knew  how  to  avoid  or 
forestall  their  abuse  ;  but  Breen  did  not.  The 
very  presence  of  such  a  man  as  he  before  the 
mast  was  a  continuous  menace, —  an  insult  to 
their  artificial  superiority, —  and  they  assailed 
him  at  each  mistake  with  volleys  of  billings 
gate  that  brought  a  flush  to  his  fine  face  and 
tears  to  his  eyes;  later,  a  deadly  paleness 
that  would  have  been  a  warning  to  tyrants  of 
better  discrimination.  Once  again,  while  be 
ing  rebuked  in  this  manner,  his  self-control 


THE   WIGWAG   MESSAGE  99 

left  him.  With  white  face  and  blazing  eyes 
he  darted  at  Mr.  Knapp,  and  had  almost  re 
peated  Johnson's  feat  on  the  poop  when  an 
iron  belaying-pin  in  the  hands  of  the  captain 
descended  upon  him  and  broke  his  left  arm. 
Mr.  Knapp's  fists  and  boots  completed  his 
tutelage,  and  he  was  carried  to  his  bunk  with 
another  lesson  learned.  Johnson,  swearing 
the  while,  skilfully  set  the  broken  bones  and 
made  a  sling;  then,  by  tactful  wheedling  of 
the  steward,  secured  certain  necessaries  from 
the  medicine-chest,  with  hot  water  from  the 
galley ;  but  open  assistance  was  refused  by 
the  captain. 

Breen,  scarcely  able  to  move,  held  to  his 
bunk  for  a  few  days  ;  then,  the  first  mild 
skirts  of  the  trade-wind  being  reached,  the 
mate  drove  him  to  the  wheel,  to  steer  one- 
handed  through  the  day,  while  all  hands  (in 
the  afternoon)  worked  in  the  rigging.  But 
the  trade-wind  freshened,  and  his  strength  was 
not  equal  to  the  task  set  for  it.  With  the  men 
all  aloft  and  the  two  mates  forward,  the  ship 
nearly  broached  to  one  day,  and  only  the  op 
portune  arrival  of  Captain  Bacon  on  deck 
saved  the  spars.  He  seized  the  wheel,  ground 
it  up,  and  the  ship  paid  off;  then  a  whole 
man  was  called  to  relieve  him,  and  the  in 
competent  helmsman  was  promptly  and  prop 
erly  punished.  He  was  kicked  off  the  poop, 
and  his  arm,  as  a  consequence,  needed  re 
setting. 


ioo  THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE 

Johnson  had  been  aloft,  but  there  was  mur 
der  in  his  dark  eyes  when  he  came  down  at 
supper-time.  Yet  he  knew  its  futility,  and 
while  bandaging  the  broken  arm  earnestly 
explained,  as  Breen's  groans  would  allow,  that 
if  he  killed  one  the  other  two  would  kill  him, 
and  nothing  would  be  gained.  "  For  they've 
brass  knuckles  in  their  pockets,  sir,"  he  said, 
"and  pistols  under  their  pillows.  We  have  n't 
even  sheath-knives,  and  the  crew  would  n't 
help." 

Whereupon,  an  inspired  Russian  Finn  of 
the  watch  remarked:  "If  a  man  know  his 
work  an'  do  his  work,  an'  gif  no  back  lip  to 
te  mates,  he  get  no  trupple  mit  te  mates.  In 
my  country  ships  — "  The  dissertation  was 
not  finished.  Johnson  silently  knocked  him 
down,  and  the  incident  closed. 

But  they  found  work  which  the  crippled 
man  could  do,  after  a  short  "  lying  up."  With 
the  steward's  washboard,  he  could  wash  the 
captain's  soiled  linen,  which  the  steward  would 
afterward  wring  out  and  hang  up.  He  re 
fused  at  first,  but  was  duly  persuaded,  and 
went  to  work  in  the  lee  scuppers  amidships. 
Johnson  made  a  detour  on  his  way  to  the 
main-rigging,  and  muttered :  "  Say  the  word, 
sir,  and  I  '11  chance  it.  No  jury  'd  convict." 

"  No,  no ;  go  aloft,  Johnson.  I  'm  all 
right,"  answered  Breen,  as  he  bent  over  the 
distasteful  task. 

Johnson  climbed  the  rigging  to  the  main- 


THE   WIGWAG   MESSAGE  101 

royalyard,  which  he  was  to  scrape"  for  re*-- 
oiling,  and  had  no  sooner  reached  it  than  he 
sang  out : 

"  Sail  oh  !  Dead  ahead,  sir.  Looks  like  an 
armored  cruiser  o'  the  first  class." 

"  Armored  cruiser  o'  the  first  class?  "mut 
tered  the  captain,  as  he  carried  his  binoculars 
to  the  weather  rail  and  looked  ahead.  "  More 
'n  I  can  make  out  with  the  glasses." 

If  three  funnels,  two  masts,  two  bridges, 
and  two  sets  of  fighting-tops  indicate  an  ar 
mored  cruiser  of  the  first  class,  Johnson  was 
right.  These  the  oncoming  craft  showed 
plainly  even  at  seven  miles'  distance.  Fifteen 
minutes  later  she  was  storming  by,  a  half-mile 
to  windward  ;  a  beautiful  picture,  long  and 
white,  with  an  incurving  ram-bow,  with  buff- 
colored  turrets  and  superstructure,  and  black 
guns  bristling  from  all  parts  of  her.  The 
Stars  and  Stripes  flew  from  the  flagstaff  at 
the  stern  ;  white-clad  men  swarmed  about  her 
decks,  and  one  of  them,  on  the  forward  bridge, 
close  to  a  group  of  officers,  was  waving  by  its 
staff  a  small  red-and-white  flag.  Captain  Ba 
con  brought  out  the  American  ensign,  and 
with  his  own  hands  hoisted  it  to  the  monkey- 
gaff  on  the  mizzen,  dipped  it  three  times  in 
respectful  salute,  and  left  it  at  the  gaff-end. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  cruiser,  as  every  man 
on  board  was  doing  except  the  man  washing 
clothes  in  the  lee  scuppers.  His  business 
was  to  wash  clothes,  not  to  cross  a  broad  deck 


102  THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE 

and  climb  a  high  rail  to  look  at  passing  craft ; 
but,  as  he  washed  away,  he  looked  furtively 
aloft,  with  eyes  that  sparkled,  at  the  man  on 
the  mainroyalyard.  Johnson  was  standing 
erect  on  the  small  spar,  holding  on  with  his 
left  hand  to  the  royal-pole, —  certainly  the 
most  conspicuous  detail  of  the  whole  ship  to 
the  eyes  of  those  on  board  the  cruiser, —  and 
with  his  right  hand  he  was  waving  his  cap  to 
the  right  and  left,  and  up  and  down.  There 
was  method  in  his  motions,  for  when  he  would 
cease,  the  small  red-and-white  flag  on  the 
cruiser's  bridge  would  answer,  waving  to  the 
right  and  left,  and  up  and  down. 

A  secondary  gun  spoke  from  a  midship 
sponson,  and  Captain  Bacon  exclaimed  en 
thusiastically,  "  Salutin'  the  flag,"  and  again 
dipped  his  ensign.  Then,  after  an  interval, 
during  which  it  became  apparent  that  the 
cruiser  had  altered  her  course  to  cross  the 
ship's  stern,  there  was  seen  another  tongue  of 
flame  and  cloud  of  smoke,  and  something 
seemed  to  rush  through  the  air  ahead  of  the 
ship.  But  it  was  a  splash  of  water  far  off  on 
the  lee  bow  which  really  apprised  them  that 
the  gun  was  shotted.  At  the  same  time  a 
string  of  small  flags  arose  to  the  signal-yard, 
and  when  Captain  Bacon  had  found  this  com 
bination  in  his  code-book,  he  read  with  amaze 
ment;  "  Heave  to  or  take  the  consequences." 
By  this  time  the  cruiser  was  squarely  across 
his  wake,  most  certainly  rounding  to  for  an 
interview. 


THE   WIGWAG   MESSAGE  103 

"  Heave  to  or  take  the  consequences  ! "  he 
exclaimed.  "  And  he  's  firin'  on  us.  Down 
from  aloft,  all  hands  !  "  he  roared  upward ;  then 
he  seized  the  answering  pennant  from  the  flag- 
locker  and  displayed  it  from  the  rail,  begrudg 
ing  the  time  needful  to  hoist  it.  The  men 
were  sliding  to  the  deck  on  backstays  and 
running-gear,  and  the  mates  were  throwing 
down  coils  of  rope  from  the  belaying-pins. 

"  Man  both  main  clue-garnets,  some  o'  you ! " 
yelled  the  captain.  "Clue  up!  Weather 
main-braces,  the  rest  o'  you  !  Slack  away  to 
looward !  Round  wi'  the  yards,  you  farmers 
—  round  wi'  'em  !  Down  wi'  the  wheel,  there  ! 
Bring  her  up  three  points  and  hold  her.  H — 1 
an'  blazes,  what 's  he  firin'  on  me  for  ? " 

Excitedly,  the  men  obeyed  him  ;  they  were 
not  used  to  gun  fire,  and  it  is  certainly  excit 
ing  to  be  shot  at.  Conspicuous  among  them 
was  Johnson,  who  pulled  and  hauled  lustily, 
shouting  exuberantly  the  formless  calls  which 
sailors  use  in  pulling  ropes,  and  smiling  sar 
donically.  In  five  minutes  from  the  time  of 
the  second  gun  the  yards  were  backed,  and, 
with  weather  leeches  trembling,  the  ship  lay 
"hove  to,"  drifting  bodily  to  leeward.  The 
cruiser  had  stopped  her  headway,  and  a  boat 
had  left  her  side.  There  were  ten  men  at  the 
oars,  a  cockswain  at  the  yoke-ropes,  and  with 
him  in  the  stern-sheets  a  young  man  in  an 
ensign's  uniform,  who  lifted  his  voice  as  the 
boat  neared  the  lee  quarter,  and  shouted: 
"  Rig  a  side-ladder  aboard  that  ship  ! " 


104  THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE 

He  was  hardly  more  than  a  boy,  but  he 
was  obeyed  ;  not  only  the  side-ladder,  but  the 
gangway  steps  were  rigged;  and  leaving 
the  cockswain  and  bow  oarsman  to  care  for 
the  boat,  the  young  officer  climbed  aboard, 
followed  by  the  rest  —  nine  muscular  man-of- 
war's-men,  each  armed  with  cutlass  and  pistol, 
one  of  them  carrying  a  hand-bag,  another  a 
bundle.  Captain  Bacon,  as  became  his  posi 
tion,  remained  upon  the  poop  to  receive  his 
visitor,  while  the  two  mates  stood  at  the  main 
fife-rail,  and  the  ship's  crew  clustered  forward. 
Johnson,  alert  and  attentive,  stood  a  little  in 
the  van,  and  the  man  in  the  lee  scuppers  still 
washed  clothes. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  young  man  ? "  asked  the 
captain  from  the  break  of  the  poop,  with  as 
much  of  dignity  as  his  recent  agitation  would 
permit.  "  Why  do  you  stop  my  ship  on  the 
high  seas  and  board  her  with  an  armed  boat's 
crew?" 

"  You  have  an  officer  and  seaman  of  the 
navy  on  board  this  ship,"  answered  the  ensign, 
who  had  been  looking  about  irresolutely. 
"  Produce  them  at  once,  if  you  please." 

"What  —  what  —  "  stuttered  the  captain, 
descending  the  poop  steps ;  but  before  more 
was  said  there  was  a  sound  from  forward  as 
of  something  hard  striking  something  heavy, 
and  as  they  looked,  they  saw  Captain  Bacon's 
bucket  of  clothes  sailing  diagonally  over  the 
lee  rail,  scattering  a  fountain  of  soapy  water 


THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE  105 

as  it  whirled ;  his  late  laundryman  coming 
toward  them  with  head  erect,  as  though  he 
might  have  owned  the  ship  and  himself;  and 
Johnson,  limping  slightly,  making  for  the 
crowd  of  blue-jackets  at  the  gangway.  With 
these  he  fraternized  at  once,  telling  them 
things  in  a  low  voice,  and  somewhat  profanely, 
while  the  two  mates  at  the  fife-rail  eyed  him 
reprovingly,  but  did  not  interrupt. 

Breen  advanced  to  the  ensign,  and  said,  as 
he  extended  his  hand :  "  I  am  Lieutenant 
Breen.  Did  you  bring  the  clothing  ?  This  is 
an  extremely  fortunate  meeting  for  me  ;  but 
I  can  thank  you  —  you  and  your  brother  offi 
cers  —  much  more  gracefully  aboard  the 


cruiser." 


The  officer  took  the  extended  hand  gin 
gerly,  with  suspicion  in  his  eyes.  Perhaps, 
if  it  had  not  been  thoroughly  clean  from  its 
late  friction  with  soap  and  water,  he  might 
have  declined  taking  it ;  for  there  was  nothing 
in  the  appearance  of  the  haggard,  ragged 
wreck  before  him  to  indicate  the  naval  officer. 

"  There  is  some  mistake,"  he  said  coldly. 
"  I  am  well  acquainted  with  Lieutenant  Breen, 
and  you  are  certainly  not  he." 

Breen's  face  flushed  hotly,  but  before  he 
could  reply,  the  captain  broke  in. 

"  Some  mistake,  hey  ?  "  said  he,  derisively. 
"I  guess  there  is  —  another  mistake  —  an 
other  bluff  that  don't  go.  Get  out  o  here  ; 
and  I  tell  you  now,  blast  yer  hide,  that  if  you 


106  THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE 

make  me  any  more  trouble  'board  my  ship 
yer  liable  to  go  over  the  side  feet  first,  with  a 
shackle  to  yer  heels.  And  you,  young  man," 
he  stormed,  turning  to  the  ensign,  "  you  look 
round,  if  you  like.  There  's  my  crew.  All 
the  navy  officers  you  find  you  can  have,  and 
welcome  to  'em."  He  turned  his  back, 
stamped  a  few  paces  along  the  deck,  and  re 
turned,  working  himself  into  a  fury. 

Breen  had  not  moved,  but,  with  a  slight 
sparkle  to  his  eyes,  said  to  the  young  officer : 

"  I  think,  sir,  that  if  you  take  the  trouble  to 
investigate,  you  will  be  satisfied.  There  are 
two  Breens  in  the  navy.  You  know  one,  evi 
dently  ;  I  am  the  other.  Lieutenant  William 
Breen  is  on  shore  duty  at  Washington,  I  think. 
Lieutenant  John  Breen,  lately  in  command  of 
the  torpedo-boat  Wainwright,  with  his  sig 
nalman  Thomas  Johnson,  are  shanghaied  on 
board  this  ship.  There  is  Johnson  talking  to 
your  men." 

The  young  man's  face  changed,  and  his 
hand  went  to  his  cap  in  salute ;  but  the  mis 
chief  was  done.  Captain  Bacon's  indignation 
was  at  bursting-pressure,  and  his  mind  in  no 
condition  to  respond  readily  to  new  impres 
sions.  He  was  captain  of  the  ship,  and 
grossly  affronted.  Johnson,  noting  his  pur 
ple  face,  wisely  reached  for  a  topsail-brace 
belaying-pin,  and  stepped  toward  him  ;  for 
he  now  towered  over  Breen,  cursing  with  vol 
canic  energy. 


THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE  107 

"Did  n't  I  tell  you  to  go  forrard?"  he 
roared,  drawing  back  his  powerful  fist. 

Breen  stood  his  ground  ;  the  officer  raised 
his  hand  and  half  drew  his  sword,  while  the 
blue-jackets  sprang  forward ;  but  it  was  John 
son's  belaying-pin  which  stopped  that  mighty 
fist  in  mid-passage.  It  was  an  iron  club, 
eighteen  inches  long  by  an  inch  and  a  half 
diameter;  and  Johnson,  strong  man  though 
he  was,  used  it  two-handed.  It  struck  the 
brawny  forearm  just  above  the  wrist  with  a 
crashing  sound,  and  seemed  to  sink  in. 
Captain  Bacon  almost  fell,  but  recovered 
his  balance,  and,  holding  the  broken  bones 
together,  staggered  toward  the  booby-hatch 
for  support.  He  groaned  in  pain,  but  did  not 
curse  ;  for  it  requires  a  modicum  of  self-respect 
for  this,  and  Captain  Bacon's  self-respect  was 
completely  shocked  out  of  him. 

But  Mr.  Knapp  and  Mr.  Hansen  still  re 
spected  themselves,  and  were  coming. 

"  You  keep  back,  there  —  you  two,"  yelled 
Johnson,  excitedly.  "Stand  by  here,  mates. 
These  buckoes  '11  kill  some  one  yet.  Look  out 
for  their  brass  knuckles  and  guns." 

And  the  two  officers  halted.  They  had  no 
desire  to  assert  themselves  before  nine  scowl 
ing,  armed  men,  an  angry  and  aggressive  mu 
tineer  with  a  belaying-pin,  and  a  rather  con 
fused,  but  wakening,  young  officer  with  drawn 
sword.  Johnson  backed  toward  the  latter. 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Mr.    Bronson,"  he 


io8  THE  WIGWAG   MESSAGE 

said — "  Tom  Johnson,  cocks'n  o'  the  gig  on 
your  practice-cruise  ?  'Member  me,  sir  ? 
This  is  Lieutenant  Breen  —  take  my  word, 
sir." 

"Yes  —  yes — I  understand,"  said  the  en 
sign,  with  a  face  redder  than  Breen's  had 
been.  "  I  really  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Breen. 
It  was  inexcusable  in  me,  I  know  —  but — I 
had  expected  to  see  a  different  face,  and  — 
and  —  we  're  three  months  out  from  Hong- 
Kong,  you  see  — " 

Breen  smiled,  and  interrupted  with  a  ges 
ture. 

"  No  time  for  explanations,  Mr.  Bronson," 
said  he,  kindly.  "  Did  you  bring  the  clothes? 
Thoughtful  of  Johnson  to  ask  for  them, 
was  n't  it?  It  really  would  be  embarrassing 
to  join  your  ship  in  this  rig.  In  the  grip  and 
bundle  ?  All  right.  Form  your  men  across 
the  deck,  please,  forward  of  the  cabin.  Keep 
these  brutes  away  from  us  while  we  change. 
Come,  Johnson." 

Taking  the  hand-bag  and  the  bundle,  they 
brazenly  entered  the  cabin  by  the  forward 
door.  In  ten  minutes  they  emerged,  John 
son  clad  in  the  blue  rig  of  a  man-of-war's- 
man,  Breen  in  the  undress  uniform  of  an  offi 
cer,  his  crippled  arm  buttoned  into  the  coat. 
As  they  stepped  toward  the  gangway,  Captain 
Bacon,  pale  and  perspiring,  wheezing  pain 
fully,  entered  the  cabin  and  passed  out  of 
their  lives.  The  steward  followed  at  his  heels, 


THE   WIGWAG    MESSAGE  109 

and  the  two  mates,  with  curiously  working 
faces,  approached  Breen. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Knapp,  "but 
I  want  to  say  that  I  had  no  notion  o'  this  at 
all ;  and  I  hope  you  won't  make  no  trouble 
for  me  ashore." 

Breen,  one  foot  on  the  steps  while  he 
waited  for  the  blue-jackets  to  file  over  the  side, 
eyed  him  thoughtfully. 

"  No,"  he  said  slowly.  (<  I  hardly  think, 
Mr.  Knapp,  that  I  shall  exert  myself  to  make 
trouble  for  you  personally,  or  for  the  other 
two.  There  is  a  measure  now  before  Con 
gress  which,  if  it  passes,  will  legislate  brutes 
like  you  and  your  captain  off  the  American 
quarter-deck  by  its  educational  conditions. 
This,  with  a  consideration  for  your  owners,  is 
what  permits  you  to  continue  this  voyage,  in 
stead  of  going  back  to  the  United  States  in 
irons.  But  if  I  had  the  power,"  he  added, 
looking  at  the  beautiful  flag  still  flying  at  the 
gaff,  "  I  would  lower  that  ensign,  and  forbid 
you  to  hoist  it.  It  is  the  flag  of  a  free  coun 
try,  and  should  not  float  over  slave-ships." 

He  mounted  the  steps,  and,  assisted  by  the 
young  officer  and  Johnson,  descended  to  the 
boat ;  but  before  Johnson  went  down,  he 
peered  over  the  rail  at  the  two  mates,  grin 
ning  luridly. 

"  And  I  '11  promise  you,"  he  said,  "  that  I  'm 
always  willing  to  make  trouble  for  you,  ashore 
or  afloat,  and  wish  I  had  a  little  more  time  for 


I  io  THE   WIGWAG   MESSAGE 

it  now.  And  you  can  tell  your  skipper,  if 
you  like,  in  case  he  don't  know  it,  that  he 
got  smashed  with  the  same  club  that  he  used 
on  Mr.  Breen,  and  I  'm  only  d — d  sorry 
I  did  n't  bring  it  down  on  his  head.  So  long, 
you  bloody-minded  hell-drivers.  See  you 
again  some  day." 

He  descended,  and  Mr.  Knapp  gave  the 
order  to  brace  the  yards. 

"  Give  a  good  deal,"  he  mused,  as  the  men 
manned  the  braces,  "  to  know  just  how 
they  got  news  to  that  cruiser.  Homeward 
bound  from  Hong-Kong  —  three  months  out. 
Could  n't  ha'  been  sent  after  us." 

But  he  never  learned. 


THE   TRADE-WIND 

/TAHE  orgy  was  finished.  The  last  sea-song 
L  had  resounded  over  the  smooth  waters  of 
the  bay ;  the  last  drunken  shout,  oath,  and 
challenge  were  voiced  ;  the  last  fight  ended  in 
helplessness  and  maudlin  amity,  and  the  red- 
shirted  men  were  sprawled  around  on  the 
moonlit  deck,  snoring.  Though  the  barrel 
of  rum  broached  on  the  main-hatch  was  but 
slightly  lowered,  their  sleep  was  heavy ; 
scurvy-tainted  men  atthe  end  of  a  Cape  Horn 
passage  may  not  drink  long  or  deeply.  Some 
lay  as  they  fell  —  face  upward ;  others  on 
their  sides  for  a  while,  then  to  roll  over  on 
their  backs  and  so  remain  until  the  sleep  was 
done ;  for  in  no  other  position  may  the  human 
body  rest  easy  on  a  hard  bed  with  no  pillow. 
And  as  they  slept  through  the  tropic  night 
the  full  moon  in  the  east  rose  higher  and 
higher,  passed  overhead  and  disappeared  be 
hind  a  thickening  haze  in  the  western  sky  ; 
but  before  it  had  crossed  the  meridian  its  cold, 
chemical  rays  had  worked  disastrously  on  the 
eyes  of  the  sleeping  men. 

in 


112  THE   TRADE-WIND 

Captain  Swarth,  prone  upon  the  poop-deck, 
was  the  first  to  waken.  There  was  pain  in 
his  head,  pain  in  his  eyes, —  which  were 
swollen, —  and  a  whistling  tumult  of  sound  in 
his  ears  coming  from  the  Plutonian  darkness 
surrounding  him,  while  a  jarring  vibration  of 
the  deck  beneath  him  apprised  his  awakening 
brain  that  the  anchor  was  dragging.  As  he 
staggered  to  his  feet  a  violent  pressure  of 
wind  hurled  him  against  the  wheel,  to  which 
he  clung,  staring  into  the  blackness  to  wind 
ward. 

"  All  hands,  there  !  "  he  roared  !  "  Up  with 
you  all !  Go  forward  and  pay  out  on  the 
chain  ! " 

Shouts,  oaths,  and  growls  answered  him, 
and  he  heard  the  nasal  voice  of  his  mate  re 
peating  his  order.  "Angel,"  he  called,  "  get 
the  other  anchor  over  and  give  her  all  of  both 
chains." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  answered  the  mate.  "  Send 
a  lantern  forrard,  Bill.  Can't  see  our  noses." 

"Steward,"  yelled  the  captain,  "  where  are 
you  ?  Light  up  a  deck-lantern  and  the  binna 
cle.  Bear  a  hand." 

He  heard  the  steward's  voice  close  to  him, 
and  the  sound  of  the  binnacle  lights  being  re 
moved  from  their  places,  then  the  opening 
and  closing  of  the  cabin  companionway.  He 
could  see  nothing,  but  knew  that  the  steward 
had  gone  below  to  his  store-room.  In  a  min 
ute  more  a  shriek  came  from  the  cabin.  It 


THE   TRADE-WIND  113 

rang  out  again  and  again,  and  soon  sounded 
from  the  companionway :  "  I  'm  blind,  I  'm 
blind,  capt'n.  I  can't  see.  I  lit  the  lantern 
and  burned  my  fingers ;  but  I  can't  see  the 
light.  I  'm  blind."  The  steward's  voice  ended 
in  a  howl. 

"  Shut  up,  you  blasted  fool,"  answered 
Captain  Swarth ;  "get  down  there  and 
light  up." 

"  Where  's  that  light?"  came  the  mate's 
voice  in  a  yell  from  amidships.  "  Shank- 
painter  's  jammed,  Bill.  Can't  do  a  thing  with 
out  alight." 

"  Come  aft  here  and  get  it.  Steward  's 
drunk." 

The  doors  in  the  forward  part  of  the  cabin 
slammed,  and  the  mate's  profanity  mingled 
with  the  protest  of  the  steward  in  the  cabin. 
Then  shouts  came  from  forward,  borne  on  the 
gale,  and  soon  followed  by  the  shuffling  of 
feet  as  the  men  groped  their  way  aft  and 
climbed  the  poop  steps. 

"We  're  stone-blind,  cappen,"  they  wailed. 
"We  lit  the  fo'c'sle  lamp,  an'  it  don't  show 
up.  We  can't  see  it.  Nobody  can  see  it. 
We  're  all  blind." 

"  Come  down  here,  Bill,"  called  the  mate 
from  below. 

As  Captain  Swarth  felt  his  way  down  the 
stairs  a  sudden  shock  stilled  the  vibrations 
caused  by  the  dragging  anchor,  and  he  knew 
that  the  chain  had  parted. 


114  THE   TRADE-WIND 

"  Stand  by  on  deck,  Angel ;  we  're  adrift," 
he  said.  "  It 's  darker  than  ten  thousand  black 
cats.  What 's  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

"  Can  you  see  the  light,  Bill  ?  I  can't. 
I  'm  blind  as  the  steward,  or  I  'm  drunker." 

"No.  Is  it  lit?  Where?  The  men  say 
they  're  blind,  too." 

"  Here,  forrard  end  o'  the  table." 

The  captain  reached  this  end,  searched  with 
his  hands,  and  burned  them  on  the  hot  glass 
of  a  lantern.  He  removed  the  bowl  and 
singed  the  hair  on  his  wrists.  The  smell  came 
to  his  nostrils. 

"I'm  blind,  too,"  he  groaned.  "Angel, 
it 's  the  moon.  We  're  moonstruck  —  moon- 
blind.  And  we  're  adrift  in  a  squall.  Stew 
ard,"  he  said  as  he  made  his  way  toward  the 
stairs,  "light  the  binnacle,  and  stop  that 
whining.  Maybe  some  one  can  see  a  little." 

When  he  reached  the  deck  he  called  to  the 
men,  growling,  cursing,  and  complaining  on 
the  poop.  "Down  below  with  you  all!"  he 
ordered.  "  Pass  through  and  out  the  forrard 
door.  If  any  man  sees  the  light  on  the  cabin 
table,  let  that  man  sing  out." 

They  obeyed  him.  Twenty  men  passed 
through  the  cabin  and  again  climbed  the  poop 
stairs,  their  lamentations  still  troubling  the 
night.  But  not  one  had  seen  the  lantern. 
Some  said  that  they  could  not  open  their 
eyes  at  all ;  some  complained  that  their  faces 
were  swollen ;  others  that  their  mouths  were 


THE   TRADE-WIND  115 

twisted  up  to  where  their  ears  should  be ;  and 
one  man  averred  that  he  could  not  breathe 
through  his  nose. 

"  It  '11  only  last  a  few  days,  boys,"  said  the 
captain,  bravely  ;  "  we  should  n't  have  slept  in 
the  moonlight  in  these  latitudes.  Drop  the 
lead  over,  one  of  you  —  weather  side.  The 
devil  knows  where  we  're  drifting,  and  the 
small  anchor  won't  hold  now;  we  '11  save  it." 
Captain  Swarth  was  himself  again. 

But  not  so  his  men.  They  had  become 
children,  with  children's  fear  of  the  dark. 
Even  the  doughty  Angel  Todd  was  oppressed 
by  the  first  horror  of  the  situation,  speaking 
only  when  spoken  to.  Above  the  rushing 
sound  of  wind  and  the  smacking  of  short  seas 
could  be  heard  the  voice  of  the  steward  in  the 
cabin,  while  an  occasional  heart-borne  male 
diction  or  groan  —  according  to  temperament 
—  added  to  the  distraction  on  deck.  One 
man,  more  self-possessed  than  the  rest,  had 
dropped  the  lead  over  the  side.  An  able 
seaman  needs  no  eyes  to  heave  the  lead. 

"  A  quarter  six,"  he  sang  out,  and  then, 
plaintively:  "We  '11  fetch  up  on  the  Barrier, 
capt'n.  S'pose  we  try  an'  get  the  other  hook 


over." 


"  Yes,  yes,"  chorused  some  of  the  braver 
spirits.  "  It  may  hold.  We  don't  want  to 
drown  on  the  reef.  Let  's  get  it  over. 
Chain  's  overhauled." 

"  Let  the  anchor  alone,"  roared  the  captain. 


ii6  THE   TRADE-WIND 

"No  anchor-chain  '11  hold  in  this.  Keep  that 
lead  a-going,  Tom  Plate,  if  it  's  you.  What 
bottom  do  you  find  ?  " 

"  Quarter  less  six,"  called  the  leadsman. 
"  Soft  bottom.  We  're  shoaling." 

"  Angel,"  said  the  captain  to  his  mate,  who 
stood  close  to  him,  "we  're  blowing  out  the 
south  channel.  We  've  been  drifting  long 
enough  to  fetch  up  on  the  reef  if  it  was  in 
our  way.  There  's  hard  bottom  in  the  north 
channel,  and  the  twenty-fathom  lead  would  n't 
reach  it  half  a  length  from  the  rocks." 

The  mate  had  nothing  to  say. 

"And  the  south  channel  lay  due  southeast 
from  our  moorings,"  continued  the  captain. 
"  Wind  's  nor'west,  I  should  say,  right  down 
from  the  hilltops ;  and  I  've  known  these 
blasted  West  India  squalls  to  last  three  days, 
blowing  straight  and  hard.  This  has  the 
smell  of  a  gale  in  it  already.  Keep  that  lead 
a-going,  there." 

"  No  bottom,"  answered  the  leadsman. 

"  Good  enough," said  the  captain,  cheerfully. 

"  No  bottom,"  was  called  repeatedly,  until 
the  captain  sang  out:  "That  '11  do  the  lead." 
Then  the  leadsman  coiled  up  the  line,  and  they 
heard  his  rasping,  unpleasant  voice,  cursing 
softly  but  fiercely  to  himself.  Captain  Swarth 
descended  the  stairs,  silenced  the  steward  with 
a  blow,  felt  of  the  clock  hands,  secured  his 
pistols,  and  returned  to  the  deck. 

"We  're  at  sea,"  he  said.     "  Two  hands  to 


THE  TRADE-WIND  117 

the  wheel.  Loose  and  set  the  foretopmast- 
staysails  and  the  foretopsail.  Staysail  first. 
Let  a  man  stay  in  the  slings  to  square  the  yard 
by  the  feel  as  it  goes  up." 

"  What  for  ?  "  they  answered  complainingly. 
"  What  ye  goin'  to  do  ?  We  can't  see.  Why 
did  n't  you  bring  to  when  you  had  bottom 
under  you  ? " 

"  No  arguments  !  "  yelled  Swarth.  "  For- 
rard  with  you.  What  are  you  doing  on  the 
poop,  anyway  ?  If  you  can't  see,  you  can  feel, 
and  what  more  do  you  want?  Jump,  now. 
Set  that  head-sail  and  get  her  'fore  the  wind  — 
quick,  or  I  '11  drop  some  of  you." 

They  knew  their  captain,  and  they  knew  the 
ropes  —  on  the  blackest  of  dark  nights.  Blind 
men  climbed  aloft,  and  felt  for  foot-ropes  and 
gaskets.  Blind  men  on  deck  felt  for  sheets, 
halyards,  and  braces,  and  in  ten  minutes  the 
sails  were  set,  and  the  brig  was  charging 
wildly  along  before  the  gale,  with  two  blind 
men  at  the  wheel  endeavoring  to  keep  her 
straight  by  the  right  and  left  pressure  of  the 
wind  on  their  faces. 

"  Keep  the  wind  as  much  on  the  port  quar 
ter  as  you  can  without  broaching  to,"  yelled 
the  captain  in  their  ears,  and  they  answered 
and  did  their  best.  She  was  a  clean-lined 
craft  and  steered  easily  ;  yet  the  off-shore  sea 
which  was  rising  often  threw  her  around  until 
nearly  in  the  trough.  The  captain  remained 
by  them,  advising  and  encouraging. 


Ii8  THE    TRADE-WIND 

"  Where  're  ye  goin',  Bill  ?  "  asked  the  mate, 
weakly,  as  he  scrambled  up  to  him. 

"  Right  out  to  sea,  and,  unless  we  get  our 
eyes  back  soon,  right  across  to  the  Bight 
of  Benin,  three  thousand  miles  from  here. 
We  've  no  business  on  this  coast  in  this  con 
dition.  What  ails  you,  Angel  ?  Lost  your 
nerve  ?  " 

"  Mebbe,  Bill."  The  mate's  voice  was 
hoarse  and  strained.  "This  is  new  to  me. 
I  'm  falling  —  falling  —  all  the  time." 

"  So  am  I.  Brace  up.  We  '11  get  used  to 
it.  Get  a  couple  of  hands  aft  and  heave  the 
log.  We  take  our  departure  from  Kittredge 
Point,  Barbados  Island,  at  six  o'clock  this 
morning  of  the  loth  October.  We  '11  keep 
a  Geordie's  log-book  —  with  a  jack-knife  and 
a  stick." 

They  hove  the  log  for  him.  It  was  marked 
for  a  now  useless  28-second  sand-glass, 
which  Captain  Swarth  replaced  by  a  spare 
chronometer,  held  to  his  ear  in  the  compan- 
ionway.  It  ticked  even  seconds,  and  when 
twenty-eight  of  them  had  passed  he  called, 
"  Stop."  The  markings  on  the  line  that  had 
slipped  through  the  mate's  fingers  indicated 
an  eight-knot  speed. 

"  Seven,  allowing  for  wild  steering,"  said 
the  captain  when  he  had  stowed  away  his 
chronometer  and  returned  to  the  deck.  "An 
gel,  we  know  we  're  going  about  sou'east  by 
east,  seven  knots.  There  's  practically  no 


THE   TRADE-WIND  119 

variation  o'  the  compass  in  these  seas,  and 
that  course  '11  take  us  clear  of  Cape  St.  Roque. 
Just  as  fast  as  the  men  can  stand  it  at  the 
wheel,  we  '11  pile  on  canvas  and  get  all  we  can 
out  o'  this  good  wind.  If  it  takes  us  into 
the  southeast  trades,  well  and  good.  We  can 
feel  our  way  across  on  the  trade-wind  —  un 
less  we  hit  something,  of  course.  You  see, 
it  blows  almost  out  of  the  east  on  this  side, 
and  '11  haul  more  to  the  sou'east  and  south'ard 
as  we  get  over.  By  the  wind  first,  then  we  '11 
square  away  as  we  need  to.  We  '11  know 
the  smell  o'  the  trades  —  nothing  like  it  on 
earth  —  and  the  smell  o'  the  Gold  Coast, 
Ivory  Coast,  Slave  Coast,  and  the  Kameruns. 
And  I  '11  lay  odds  we  can  feel  the  heat  o'  the 
sun  in  the  east  and  west  enough  to  make  a 
fair  guess  at  the  course.  But  it  won't  come  to 
that.  Some  of  us  '11  be  able  to  see  pretty 


soon." 


It  was  wild  talk,  but  the  demoralized  mate 
needed  encouraging.  He  answered  with  a 
steadier  voice  :  "  Lucky  we  got  in  grub  and 
water  yesterday." 

"  Right  you  are,  Angel.  Now,  in  case  this 
holds  on  to  us,  why,  we  '11  find  some  of  our 
friends  over  in  the  Bight,  and  they  '11  know 
by  our  rig  that  something 's  wrong.  Flanders 
is  somewhere  on  the  track, —  you  know  he 
went  back  to  the  nigger  business,- —  and 
Chink  put  a  slave-deck  in  his  hold  down  Rio 
way  last  spring.  And  old  man  Slack  —  I  did 


120  THE  TRADE-WIND 

him  a  service  when  I  crippled  the  corvette 
that  was  after  him,  and  he  's  grateful.  Hope 
we  '11  meet  him.  I  'd  rather  meet  Chink 
than  Flanders  in  the  dark,  and  I  'd  trust  a 
Javanese  trader  before  either.  If  either  of 
them  come  aboard  we  '11  be  ready  to  use  their 
eyes  for  our  benefit,  not  let  'em  use  ours  for 
theirs.  Flanders  once  said  he  liked  the  looks 
of  this  brig." 

"  S'pose  we  run  foul  of  a  bulldog?" 
"We  '11  have  to  chance  it.  This  coast  's 
full  o'  them,  too.  Great  guns,  man  !  Would 
you  drift  around  and  do  nothing  ?  Anywhere 
east  of  due  south  there  's  no  land  nearer  than 
Cape  Orange,  and  that 's  three  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  from  here.  Beginning  to-morrow 
noon,  we  '11  take  deep-sea  soundings  until 
we  strike  the  trade- wind." 

The  negro  cook  felt  his  way  through  the 
preparing  of  meals  and  served  them  on  time. 
The  watches  were  set,  and  sail  was  put  on  the 
brig  as  fast  as  the  men  became  accustomed 
to  the  new  way  of  steering,  those  relieved 
always  imparting  what  they  had  learned  to 
their  successors.  Before  nightfall  on  that 
first  day  they  were  scudding  under  foresail, 
topsail  and  topgallantsail  and  maintopsail, 
with  the  spanker  furled  as  useless,  and  the  jib 
adding  its  aid  to  the  foretopmast-staysail  in 
keeping  the  brig  before  the  quartering  seas 
which  occasionally  climbed  aboard.  The  bow 
sprit  light  was  rigged  nightly ;  they  hove  the 


THE  TRADE-WIND  121 

log  every  two  hours ;  and  Captain  Swarth 
made  scratches  and  notches  on  the  sliding- 
hood  of  the  companionway,  while  careful  to 
wind  his  chronometer  daily. 

But,  in  spite  of  the  cheer  of  his  indomitable 
courage  and  confidence,  his  men,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few,  dropped  into  a  querulous, 
whining  discontent.  Mr.  Todd,  spurred  by 
his  responsibility,  gradually  came  around  to 
something  like  his  old  arbitrary  self.  Yank 
Tate,  the  carpenter,  maintained  through  it  all 
a  patient  faith  in  the  captain,  and,  in  so  far  as 
his  influence  could  be  felt,  acted  as  a  foil  to 
the  irascible,  fault-finding  Tom  Plate,  the 
forecastle  lawyer,  the  man  who  had  been  at 
the  lead-line  at  Barbados.  But  the  rest  of 
them  were  dazed  and  nerveless,  too  shaken 
in  brain  and  body  to  consider  seriously  Tom's 
proposition  to  toss  the  afterguard  overboard 
and  beach  the  brig  on  the  South  American 
coast,  where  they  could  get  fresh  liver  of 
shark,  goat,  sheep,  or  bullock,  which  even  a 
"nigger"  knew  was  the  only  cure  for  moon- 
blindness. 

They  had  not  yet  recovered  from  the  un 
accustomed  debauch ;  their  clouded  brains 
seemed  too  large  for  their  skulls,  and  their 
eyeballs  ached  in  their  sockets,  while  they 
groped  tremblingly  from  rope  to  rope  at  the 
behest  of  the  captain  or  mate. 

So  Tom  marked  himself  for  future  attention 
by  insolent  and  disapproving  comments  on 


122  THE   TRADE-WIND 

the  orders  of  his  superiors,  and  a  habit  of  mov 
ing  swiftly  to  another  part  of  the  deck  directly 
he  had  spoken,  which  prevented  the  blind 
and  angry  captain  from  finding  him  in  the 
crowd. 

Dim  as  must  have  been  the  light  of  day 
through  the  pelting  rain  and  storm-cloud,  it 
caused  increased  pain  in  their  eyes,  and  they 
bound  them  with  their  neckerchiefs,  applying 
meanwhile  such  remedies  as  forecastle  lore 
could  suggest.  The  captain  derided  these 
remedies,  but  frankly  confessed  his  ignorance 
of  anything  but  time  as  a  means  of  cure.  And 
so  they  existed  and  suffered  through  a  three 
days' damp  gale  and  a  fourth  day's  dead  calm, 
when  the  brig  rolled  scuppers  under  with  all 
sail  set,  ready  for  the  next  breeze.  It  came, 
cool,  dry,  and  faint  at  first,  then  brisker — the 
unmistakable  trade-wind.  They  boxed  the 
brig  about  and  braced  sharp  on  the  starboard 
tack,  steering  again  by  the  feel  of  the  wind 
and  the  rattling  of  shaking  leeches  aloft.  The 
removal  of  bandages  to  ascertain  the  sun's 
position  by  sense  of  light  or  increase  of  pain 
brought  agonized  howls  from  the  experiment 
ers,  and  this  deterred  the  rest.  Not  even  by 
its  warmth  could  they  locate  it.  It  was  over 
head  at  noon  and  useless  as  a  guide.  In  the 
early  morning  and  late  afternoon,  when  it 
might  have  indicated  east  and  west,  its  warmth 
was  overcome  by  the  coolness  of  the  breeze. 
So  they  steered  on  blindly,  close-hauled  on 


THE   TRADE-WIND  123 

the  starboard  tack,  nearly  as  straight  a  course 
as  though  they  were  whole  men. 

They  took  occasional  deep-sea  soundings 
with  the  brig  shaking  in  the  wind,  but  found 
no  bottom,  and  at  the  end  of  fifteen  days  a 
longer  heave  to  the  ground-swell  was  evidence 
to  Captain  Swarth's  mind  that  he  was  passing 
Cape  St.  Roque,  and  the  soundings  were  dis 
continued. 

"  No  use  bothering  about  St.  Paul  Rocks  or 
the  Rocas,  Angel,"  said  he.  "  They  rise  out 
o'  the  deep  sea,  and  if  we  're  to  hit,  soundings 
won't  warn  us  in  time.  I  take  it  we  '11  pass 
between  them  and  well  north  of  Ascension." 
So  he  checked  in  the  yards  a  little  and  brought 
the  wind  more  abeam. 

One  day  Yank  Tate  appeared  at  the  cap 
tain's  elbow,  and  suggested,  in  a  low  voice, 
that  he  examine  the  treasure-chests  in  the 
'tween-deck.  "  I  was  down  stowing  away 
some  oakum,"  he  said,  "an'  I  was  sure  I 
heard  the  lid  close ;  but  nobody  answered 
me,  an'  I  could  n't  feel  anybody." 

Captain  Swarth  descended  to  his  cabin 
and  found  his  keys  missing ;  then  he  and  the 
carpenter  visited  the  chests.  They  were  locked 
tight,  and  as  heavy  as  ever. 

"Some  one  has  the  keys,  Yank,  and  has 
very  likely  raided  the  diamonds.  We  can't 
do  anything  but  wait.  He  can't  get  away. 
Keep  still  about  it/' 

The  air  became  cooler  as  they  sailed  on ; 


124  THE   TRADE-WIND 

and  judging  that  the  trade-wind  was  blowing 
more  from  the  south  than  he  had  allowed  for, 
the  captain  brought  the  wind  squarely  abeam, 
and  the  brig  sailed  faster.  Still,  it  was  too 
cool  for  the  latitude,  and  it  puzzled  him, 
until  a  man  came  aft  and  groaned  that  he 
had  lifted  his  bandage  to  bathe  his  eyes,  and 
had  unmistakably  seen  the  sun  four  points  off 
the  port  quarter  ;  but  his  eyes  were  worse 
now,  and  he  could  not  do  it  again. 

"Four  points  off!"  exclaimed  Swarth. 
"Four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  That  's  just 
about  where  the  sun  ought  to  be  heading  due 
east,  and  far  enough  south  o'  the  line  to  bring 
this  cool  weather.  We  're  not  far  from  As 
cension.  Never  knew  the  sou'east  trade  to 
act  like  this  before.  Must  ha'  been  blowing 
out  o'  the  sou'west  half  the  time." 

A  week  later  they  were  hove  to  on  the  port 
tack  under  double-reefed  topsails,  with  a  cold 
gale  of  wind  screaming  through  the  rigging 
and  cold  green  seas  boarding  their  weather 
bow.  It  was  the  first  break  in  the  friendly 
trade-wind,  and  Swarth  confessed  to  himself 
—  though  not  to  his  men  —  that  he  was  out  of 
his  reckoning ;  but  one  thing  he  was  sure 
of — that  this  was  a  cyclone  with  a  dangerous 
center. 

The  brig  labored  heavily  during  the  lulls 
as  the  seas  rose,  and  when  the  squalls  came, 
flattening  them  to  a  level,  she  would  lie  down 
like  a  tired  animal,  while  the  seolian  song 


THE  TRADE-WIND  125 

aloft  prevented  orders  being  heard  unless 
shouted  near  by.  Captain  Swarth  went  below 
and  smashed  the  glass  of  an  aneroid  barome 
ter  (newly  invented  and  lately  acquired  from 
an  outward-bound  Englishman),  in  which  he 
had  not  much  confidence,  but  which  might 
tell  him  roughly  of  the  air-density.  Feeling 
of  the  indicator,  and  judging  by  the  angle  it 
made  with  the  center, —  marked  by  a  ring  at 
the  top, —  he  found  a  measurement  which 
startled  him.  Setting  the  adjustable  hand 
over  the  indicator  for  future  reference,  he  re 
turned  to  the  deck,  ill  at  ease,  and  ordered 
the  topsails  goose-winged.  By  the  time  the 
drenched  and  despairing  blind  men  had  ac 
complished  this,  a  further  lowering  of  the 
barometer  induced  him  to  furl  topsails  and 
foretopmast-staysail,  and  allow  the  brig  to 
ride  under  a  storm-spanker.  Then  the  in 
creasing  wind  required  that  this  also  should 
be  taken  in,  and  its  place  filled  by  a  tarpau 
lin  lashed  to  the  weather  main-rigging. 

"  Angel,"  said  the  captain,  shouting  into 
the  mate's  ear,  "  there  's  only  one  thing  to  ac 
count  for  this.  We  're  on  the  right  tack  for 
the  Southern  Ocean  ;  but  the  storm-center  is 
overtaking  us  faster  than  we  can  drift  away 
from  it.  We  must  scud  out  of  its  way." 

So  they  took  in  the  tarpaulin  and  set  the 
foretopmast-staysail  again,  and,  with  the  best 
two  helmsmen  at  the  wheel,  they  sped  before 
the  tempest  for  four  hours,  during  which  there 


126  THE   TRADE-WIND 

was  no  increase  of  the  wind  and  no  change 
in  the  barometer;  it  still  remained  at  its 
lowest  reading. 

"  Keep  the  wind  as  much  on  the  port  quar 
ter  as  you  dare,"  ordered  Swarth.  "  We  're 
simply  sailing  around  the  center,  and  perhaps 
in  with  the  vortex." 

They  obeyed  him  as  they  could,  and  in  a 
few  hours  more  there  was  less  fury  in  the 
blast  and  a  slight  rise  in  the  barometer. 

"  I  was  right,"  said  the  captain.  "  The 
center  will  pass  us  now.  We  're  out  of  its 
way." 

They  brought  the  brig  around  amid  a 
crashing  of  seas  over  the  port  rail,  and  stow 
ing  the  staysail,  pinned  her  again  on  the  port 
tack  with  the  tarpaulin.  But  a  few  hours  of 
it  brought  an  increase  of  wind  and  a  fall  of 
the  barometer. 

"  What  in  d — nation  does  it  mean,  Angel?" 
cried  the  captain,  desperately.  "By  all  laws 
of  storms  we  ought  to  drift  away  from  the 
center." 

The  mate  could  not  tell ;  but  a  voice  out 
of  the  night,  barely  distinguishable  above  the 
shrieking  wind,  answered  him. 

"  You  —  all-fired  —  fool  —  don't  —  you  — 
know  —  any  —  more  —  than  —  to  —  heave  — 
to  —  in  —  the  —  Gulf —  Stream  ?  " 

Then  there  was  the  faintest  disturbance  in 
the  sounds  of  the  sea,  indicating  the  rushing 
by  of  a  large  craft. 


THE   TRADE-WIND  127 

"What!"  roared  Swarth.  "The  Gulf 
Stream  ?  I  Ve  lost  my  reckoning.  Where 
am  I  ?  Ship  ahoy  !  Where  am  I  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer,  and  he  stumbled 
down  to  the  main-deck  among  his  men,  fol 
lowed  by  the  mate. 

"  Draw  a  bucket  of  water,  one  of  you,"  he 
ordered. 

This  was  done,  and  he  immersed  his  hand. 
The  water  was  warm. 

"  Gulf-Stream,"  he  yelled  frantically,  "Gulf 
Stream  —  how  in  h — 1  did  we  get  up  here  ? 
We  ought  to  be  down  near  St.  Helena. 
Angel,  come  here.  Let  's  think.  We  sailed 
by  the  wind  on  the  southeast  trade  for  —  no, 
we  did  n't.  It  was  the  northeast  trade.  We 
caught  the  northeast  trade,  and  we  Ve  circled 
all  over  the  Western  Ocean." 

"  You  Ve  a  bully  full-rigged  navigator,  you 
are,"  came  the  sneering,  rasping  voice  of  Tom 
Plate  from  the  crowd.  "Why  did  n't  you 
drop  your  hook  at  Barbados,  and  give  us  a 
chance  for  our  eyes  ?  " 

The  captain  lunged  toward  him  on  the  reel 
ing  deck  ;  but  Tom  moved  on. 

"Your  time  is  coming,  Tom  Plate,"  he 
shouted  insanely ;  then  he  climbed  to  the  poop, 
and  when  he  had  studied  the  situation  awhile, 
called  his  bewildered  mate  up  to  him. 

"We  were  blown  out  of  the  north  entrance 
o'  the  bay,  Angel,  instead  of  the  south,  as  we 
thought.  I  was  fooled  by  the  soundings.  At 


128  THE   TRADE-WIND 

this  time  o'  the  year  Barbados  is  about  on  the 
thermal  equator — half- way  between  the  trades. 
This  is  a  West  India  cyclone,  and  we  're  some 
where  around  Hatteras.  No  wonder  the  port 
tack  drifted  us  into  the  center.  Storms  re 
volve  against  the  sun  north  o'  the  line,  and 
with  the  sun  south  of  it.  Oh,  I  'm  the  two 
ends  and  the  bight  of  a  d — d  fool !  Wear 
ship  !  "  he  added  in  a  thundering  roar. 

They  put  the  brig  on  the  starboard  tack, 
and  took  hourly  soundings  with  the  deep-sea 
lead.  As  they  hauled  it  in  for  the  fourth  time, 
the  men  called  that  the  water  was  cold  ;  and 
on  the  next  sounding  the  lead  reached  bottom 
at  ninety  fathoms. 

"  We  're  inside  the  Stream  and  the  hun 
dred-fathom  curve,  Angel.  The  barometer's 
rising  now.  The  storm-center  's  leaving  us, 
and  we  're  drifting  ashore,"  said  the  captain. 
"  I  know  pretty  well  where  I  am.  These 
storms  follow  an  invariable  track,  and  I  judge 
the  center  is  to  the  east  of  us,  moving  north. 
That  's  why  we  did  n't  run  into  it  when  we 
thought  we  were  dodging  it.  We  '11  square 
away  with  the  wind  on  the  starboard  quarter 
now,  and  if  we  pick  up  the  Stream  and  the 
glass  don't  rise,  I  '11  be  satisfied  to  turn  in. 
I  'm  about  fagged  out." 

11  It 's  too  much  for  me,  Bill,"  answered  Mr. 
Todd,  wearily.  "  I  can  navigate ;  but  this 
ain't  navigation.  This  is  blindman's-buff." 

But  he  set  the  head-sail  for  his  captain,  and 


THE   TRADE-WIND  129 

again  the  brig  fled  before  the  wind.  Only 
once  did  they  round  to  for  soundings,  and 
this  time  found  no  bottom  ;  so  they  squared 
away,  and  when,  a  few  hours  later,  the  seas 
came  aboard  warm,  Swarth  was  confident 
enough  of  his  position  to  allow  his  mind  to 
dwell  on  pettier  details  of  his  business. 

It  was  nearly  breakfast-time  now,  and  the 
men  would  soon  be  eating.  With  his  pis 
tols  in  his  coat  pockets  he  stationed  himself 
beside  the  scuttle  of  the  fore-hatch, —  the 
entrance  to  the  forecastle, —  and  waited  long 
and  patiently,  listening  to  occasional  com 
ments  on  his  folly  and  bad  seamanship 
which  ascended  from  below,  until  the  harsh 
voice  of  Tom  Plate  on  the  stairs  indicated 
his  coming  up.  He  reached  toward  Tom 
with  one  hand,  holding  a  cocked  pistol  with 
the  other  ;  but  Tom  slid  easily  out  of  his 
wavering  grasp  and  fled  along  the  deck.  He 
followed  his  footsteps  until  he  lost  them,  and 
picked  up  instead  the  angry  plaint  of  the 
negro  cook  in  the  galley  amidships. 

"  I  do'  know  who  you  are,  but  you  want  to 
git  right  out  o'  my  galley,  now.  You  heah 
me  ?  I  'se  had  enough  o'  dis  comin'  inter  my 
galley.  Gwan,  now !  Is  you  de  man  dat  's 
all  time  stealin'  my  coffee  ?  I  '11  gib  you  cof 
fee,  you  trash  !  Take  dat !  " 

Captain  Swarth  reached  the  galley  door  in 
time  to  receive  on  the  left  side  of  his  face  a 
generous  share  of  a  pot  of  scalding  coffee.  It 


130  THE   TRADE-WIND 

brought  an  involuntary  shriek  of  agony  from 
him  ;  then  he  clung  to  the  galley-lashings  and 
spoke  his  mind.  Still  in  torment,  he  felt  his 
way  through  the  galley ;  but  the  cook  and 
the  intruder  had  escaped  by  the  other  door 
and  made  no  sound. 

All  that  day  and  the  night  following  he 
chose  to  lie  in  his  darkened  state-room,  with 
his  face  bandaged  in  oily  cloths,  while  Yank 
Tate  stood  his  watch.  In  the  morning  he 
removed  the  bandages  and  took  in  the  sight 
of  his  state-room  fittings :  the  bulkhead,  his 
desk,  chronometer,  cutlass,  and  clothing  hang 
ing  on  the  hooks.  It  was  a  joyous  sight,  and 
he  shouted  in  gladness.  He  could  not  see 
with  his  right  eye  and  but  dimly  with  his  left, 
but  a  scrutiny  of  his  face  in  a  mirror  disclosed 
deep  lines  that  had  not  been  there,  distorted 
eyelids,  and  the  left  side  where  the  coffee  had 
scalded  puffed  to  a  large,  angry  blister.  He 
tied  up  his  face,  leaving  his  left  eye  free,  and 
went  on  deck. 

The  wind  had  moderated,  but  on  all  sides 
was  a  wild  gray  waste  of  heaving,  white- 
crested  combers,  before  which  the  brig  was 
still  scudding  under  the  staysail.  Three  miles 
off  on  the  port  bow  was  a  large,  square-bowed, 
square-yarded  ship,  hove  to  and  heading  away 
from  them,  which  might  be  a  frigate  or  a  sub 
sidized  Englishman  with  painted  ports ;  but 
in  either  case  she  could  not  be  investigated 
now.  He  looked  at  the  compass.  The  brig 


THE  TRADE-WIND  131 

was  heading  about  southeast,  and  his  judg 
ment  was  confirmed.  Two  haggard-faced 
men  with  bandaged  eyes  were  grinding  the 
wheel  to  starboard  and  port,  and  keeping  the 
brig's  yaws  within  two  points  each  way  — 
good  work  for  blind  men.  Angel  Todd  stood 
near,  his  chin  resting  in  his  hand  and  his  elbow 
on  the  companionway.  Forward  the  watch 
sat  about  in  coils  of  rope  and  sheltered  nooks 
or  walked  the  deck  unsteadily,  and  a  glance 
aloft  showed  the  captain  his  rigging  hanging 
in  bights  and  yards  pointed  every  way.  She 
was  unkempt  as  a  wreck.  The  same  glance 
apprised  him  of  an  English  ensign,  union 
down,  tattered  and  frayed  to  half  its  size,  at 
the  end  of  the  standing  spanker-gaff,  with  the 
halyards  made  fast  high  on  the  royal-backstay, 
above  the  reach  of  bungling  blind  fingers. 
Tom  Plate  was  coming  aft  with  none  of  the 
hesitancy  of  the  blind,  and  squinting  aloft  at 
the  damaged  distress-signal.  He  secured  an 
other  ensign  —  American  —  from  the  flag- 
locker  in  the  booby-hatch,  mounted  the  rail, 
and  hoisted  it,  union  down,  in  place  of  the  other. 
Then  he  dropped  to  the  deck  and  looked  into 
the  glaring  left  eye  and  pepper-box  pistol 
of  Captain  Swarth,  who  had  descended  on 
him. 

"  Hands  up,  Tom  Plate,  over  your  head  — 
quick,  or  I  '11  blow  your  brains  out ! " 

White  in  the  face  and  open-mouthed,  Tom 
obeyed. 


132  THE   TRADE-WIND 

"Mr.  Todd,"  called  the  captain,  "come 
down  here  —  port  main-rigging." 

The  mate  came  quickly,  as  he  always  did 
when  he  heard  the  prefix  to  his  name.  It 
was  used  only  in  emergencies. 

"What  soundings  did  you  get  at  the  lead 
when  we  were  blowing  out?"  asked  the  cap 
tain.  "What  water  did  you  have  when  you 
sang  out  '  a  quarter  six '  and  '  a  quarter  less 
six '  ?  " 

"  N-n-one,  capt'n.  There  warn't  any  bot 
tom.  I  jess  wanted  to  get  you  to  drop  the 
other  anchor  and  hold  her  off  the  reef." 

"  Got  him  tight,  cappen  ?  "  asked  the  mate. 
"  Shall  I  help  you  hold  'im  ? " 

"  I  Ve  got  my  sight  back.  I  've  got  Tom 
Plate  under  my  gun.  How  long  have  you 
been  flying  signals  of  distress,  Tom  Plate  ?  " 

"  Ever  since  I  could  see,  capt'n,"  answered 
the  trembling  sailor. 

"How  long  is  that?" 

"Second  day  out,  sir." 

"  What  's  your  idea  in  keeping  still  about 
it?  What  could  you  gain  by  being  taken 
aboard  a  man-of-war  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  want  to  have  all  the  work  piled 
on  me  jess  'cause  I  could  see,  capt'n.  I 
never  thought  anybody  could  ever  see  again. 
I  slept  partly  under  No.  2  gun  that  night, 
and  did  n't  get  it  so  bad." 

"  You  sneaked  into  my  room,  got  my  keys, 
and  raided  the  treasure-chests.  You  know 


THE  TRADE-WIND  133 

what  the  rules  say  about  that  ?  Death  with 
out  trial." 

"  No,  I  did  n't,  capt'n ;   I  did  n't." 

"Search  him,  Mr.  Todd." 

The  search  brought  to  light  a  tobacco- 
pouch  in  which  were  about  fifty  unset  dia 
monds  and  a  few  well-jeweled  solid-gold 
ornaments,  which  the  captain  pocketed. 

"  Not  much  of  a  haul,  considering  what  you 
left  behind,"  he  said  calmly.  "I  suppose  you 
only  took  what  you  could  safely  hide  and 
swim  with." 

"  I  only  took  my  share,  sir;  I  did  no  harm  ; 
I  did  n't  want  to  be  driftin'  round  wi'  blind 
men.  How  'd  I  know  anybody  could  ever 
see  any  more  ?  " 

"  Sad  mistake,  Tom.  All  we  wanted,  it 
seems,  was  a  good  scalding  with  hot  coffee." 
He  mused  a  few  moments,  then  continued : 
"There  must  be  some  medical  virtue  in  hot 
coffee  which  the  doctors  have  n't  learned,  and 
—  well  —  Tom,  you  Ve  earned  your  finish." 

"  You  won't  do  it,  capt'n;  you  can't  do  it. 
The  men  won't  have  it ;  they  're  with  me," 
stuttered  the  man. 

"  Possibly  they  are.  I  heard  you  all  growl 
ing  down  the  hatch  yesterday  morning.  You  're 
a  pack  of  small-minded  curs.  I  '11  get  another 
crew.  Mr.  Todd,"  he  said  to  the  listening 
mate,  "steward  told  me  he  was  out  of  coffee, 
so  we  '11  break  a  bag  out  o'  the  lazarette.  It 's 
a  heavy  lift  —  two  hundred  pounds  and  over 


134  THE  TRADE-WIND 

—  'bout  the  weight  of  a  man  ;  so  we  '11  hoist 
it  up.  Let  Tom,  here,  rig  a  whip  to  the 
spanker-gaff.  He  can  see." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  answered  the  mate.  "  Get 
a  single  block  and  a  strap  and  a  gant-line  out 
o'  the  bo's'n's  locker,  Tom." 

"  Is  it  all  right,  capt'n  ?  "  asked  Tom,  low 
ering  his  hands  with  a  deep  sigh  of  relief. 
"  I  did  what  seemed  right,  you  know." 

"  Rig  that  whip,"  said  Swarth,  turning  his 
back  and  ascending  the  poop. 

Tom  secured  the  gear,  and  climbing  aloft 
and  out  the  gaff,  fastened  the  block  directly 
over  the  lazarette-hatch,  just  forward  of  the 
binnacle.  Then  he  overhauled  the  rope  until 
it  reached  the  deck,  and  descended. 

"  Come  up  here  on  the  poop,"  called  the 
captain  ;  and  he  came. 

"Shall  I  go  down  and  hook  on,  sir?"  he 
asked  zealously. 

"  Make  a  hangman's  noose  in  the  end  of  the 
rope,"  said  Swarth. 

"Eh — what — a  runnin' bowline — a  timber- 
hitch?  No,  no,"  he  yelled,  as  he  read  the 
captain's  face.  "You  can't  do  it.  The 


men  —  " 


"  Make  a  hangman's  knot  in  the  end  of  the 
rope,"  thundered  the  captain,  his  pistol  at 
Tom's  ear. 

With  a  face  like  that  of  a  death's-head  he 
tied  the  knot. 

"  Pass  it  round  your  neck  and  draw  it 
tight." 


THE   TRADE-WIND  135 

Hoarse,  inarticulate  screams  burst  from  the 
throat  of  the  man,  ended  by  a  blow  on  the 
side  of  his  face  by  the  captain's  iron-hard  fist. 
He  fell,  and  lay  quiet,  while  Swarth  himself 
adjusted  the  noose  and  bound  the  hands  with 
his  own  handkerchief.  The  men  at  the  wheel 
strained  their  necks  this  way  and  that,  with 
tense  waves  of  conflicting  expressions  flitting 
across  their  weary  faces,  and  the  men  for 
ward,  aroused  by  the  screams,  stood  about  in 
anxious  expectancy  until  they  heard  Swarth's 
roar :  "  Lay  aft  here,  the  watch  !  " 

They  came,  feeling  their  way  along  by  rail 
and  hatch. 

"  Clap  on  to  that  gant-line  at  the  main  fife- 
rail,  and  lift  this  bag  of  coffee  out  o'  the  laza- 
rette,"  sang  out  the  captain. 

They  found  the  loose  rope,  tautened  it, 
hooked  the  bight  into  an  open  sheave  in  the 
stanchion,  and  listlessly  walked  forward  with 
it.  When  they  had  hoisted  the  unconscious 
Tom  to  the  gaff,  Swarth  ordered :  "  Belay, 
coil  up  the  fall,  and  go  forrard." 

They  obeyed,  listlessly  as  ever,  with  no 
wondering  voice  raised  to  inquire  why  they 
had  not  lowered  the  coffee  they  had  hoisted. 

Captain  Swarth  looked  at  the  square-rigged 
ship,  now  on  the  port  quarter  —  an  ill-defined 
blur  to  his  imperfect  vision.  "  Fine  chance 
we  'd  have  had,"  he  muttered,  "  if  that  hap 
pened  to  be  a  bulldog.  Angel,"  he  said,  as 
the  mate  drew  near.  "  Hot  coffee  is  good  for 
moon-blindness,  taken  externally,  as  a  blister- 


136  THE  TRADE-WIND 

ing  agent  —  a  counter-irritant.  We  have  no 
fly-blisters  in  the  medicine-chest,  but  smoking- 
hot  grease  must  be  just  as  good,  if  not  better 
than  either.  Have  the  cook  heat  up  a  potful, 
and  you  get  me  out  a  nice  small  paint-brush." 

Forty-eight  hours  later,  when  the  last  wak 
ening  vision  among  the  twenty  men  had  taken 
cognizance  of  the  grisly  object  aloft,  the  gaff 
was  guyed  outboard,  the  rope  cut  at  the  fife- 
rail,  and  the  body  of  Tom  Plate  dropped,  feet 
first,  to  the  sea. 

Then  when  Captain  Swarth's  eyes  permitted 
he  took  an  observation  or  two,  and,  after  a 
short  lecture  to  his  crew  on  the  danger  of 
sleeping  in  tropic  moonlight,  shaped  his  course 
for  Barbados  Island,  to  take  up  the  burden 
of  his  battle  with  fate  where  the  blindness  had 
forced  him  to  lay  it  down ;  to  scheme  and  to 
plan,  to  dare  and  to  do,  to  war  and  to  destroy, 
against  the  inevitable  coming  of  the  time  when 
fate  should  prove  the  stronger  —  when  he 
would  lose  in  a  game  where  one  must  always 
win  or  die. 


SALVAGE 

SHE  had  a  large  crew,  abnormally  large 
hawse-pipes,  and  a  bad  reputation  —  the 
last  attribute  born  of  the  first.  Registered  as 
the  Rosebud,  this  innocent  name  was  painted  on 
her  stern  and  on  her  sixteen  dories;  but  she 
was  known  among  the  fishing-fleet  as  the 
Ishmaelite,  and  the  name  fitted  her.  Secre 
tive  and  unfriendly,  she  fished  alone,  avoided 
company,  answered  few  hails,  and,  seldom  fill 
ing  her  hold,  disposed  of  her  catch  as  her 
needs  required,  in  out-of-the-way  ports,  often 
as  far  south  as  Charleston.  And  she  usually 
left  behind  her  such  bitter  memories  of  her 
visit  as  placed  the  last  port  at  the  bottom  of 
her  list  of  markets. 

No  ship-chandler  or  provision-dealer  ever 
showed  her  receipted  bills,  and  not  a  few  of 
them  openly  averred  that  certain  burglaries  of 
their  goods  had  plausible  connection  with  her 
presence  in  port.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  fact 
stood  that  farmers  on  the  coast  who  saw  her 
high  bow  and  unmistakable  hawse-pipes  when 


138  SALVAGE 

she  ran  in  for  bait  invariably  double-locked 
their  barns  and  chicken-coops,  and  turned 
loose  all  tied  dogs  when  night  descended, 
often  to  find  both  dogs  and  chickens  gone  in 
the  morning. 

Once,  too,  three  small  schooners  had  come 
home  with  empty  holds,  and  complained  of  the 
appearance,  while  anchored  in  the  fog,  of  a 
flotilla  of  dories  manned  by  masked  men,  who 
overpowered  and  locked  all  hands  in  cabin  or 
forecastle,  and  then  removed  the  cargoes  offish 
to  their  own  craft,  hidden  in  the  fog.  Shortly 
after  this,  the  Ishmaelite  disposed  of  a  large 
catch  in  Baltimore,  and  the  piracy  was  be 
lieved  of  her,  but  never  proved. 

Her  luck  at  finding  things  was  remarkable. 
Drifting  dories,  spars,  oars,  and  trawl-tubs 
sought  her  unsavory  company,  as  though  im 
pelled  by  the  inanimate  perversity  which  had 
sent  them  drifting.  They  were  sold  in  port, 
or  returned  to  their  owners,  when  paid  for. 
In  the  early  part  of  her  career  she  had  towed 
a  whistling  buoy  into  Boston  and  claimed  sal 
vage  of  the  government,  showing  her  log 
book  to  prove  that  she  had  picked  it  up  far  at 
sea.  The  salvage  was  paid  ;  but,  as  her  rep 
utation  spread,  there  were  those  who  declared 
that  she  herself  had  sent  the  buoy  adrift. 

As  poets  and  sailors  believe  that  ships  have 
souls,  it  may  be  that  she  gloried  in  her  shame, 
like  other  fallen  creatures ;  for  her  large, 
slanting  oval  hawse-pipes  and  boot-top  stripe 


SALVAGE  139 

gave  a  fine,  Oriental  sneer  to  her  face-like 
bow,  and  there  was  slur  and  insult  to  respec 
table  craft  in  the  lazy  dignity  with  which  she 
would  swash  through  the  fleet  on  the  port 
tack,  compelling  vessels  on  the  starboard  tack 
to  give  up  their  right  of  way  or  be  rammed  ; 
for  she  was  a  large  craft,  and  there  was  men 
ace  in  her  solid,  one-piece  jib-boom,  thick  as 
an  ordinary  mainmast.  An  outward-bound 
coasting-schooner,  resenting  this  lawlessness 
on  one  occasion,  attempted  to  assert  her 
rights,  and  being  on  the  lawful  starboard  tack, 
bore  steadily  down  on  the  Ishmaelite, —  who 
budged  not  a  quarter-point, —  and,  losing  heart 
at  the  last  moment,  luffed  up,  all  shaking,  in 
just  the  position  to  allow  the  ring  of  her  port 
anchor  to  catch  on  the  bill  of  the  Ishmaelite 's 
starboard  anchor.  As  her  own  ring-stopper 
and  shank-painter  were  weak,  the  patent  wind 
lass  unlocked,  and  the  end  of  the  cable  not 
secured  in  the  chain-locker,  the  Ishmaelite 
walked  calmly  away  with  the  anchor  and  a 
hundred  fathoms  of  chain,  which,  at  the  next 
port,  she  sold  as  legitimate  spoil  of  the  sea. 

As  her  reputation  increased,  so  did  the 
hatred  of  men,  while  the  number  of  ports  on 
the  coast  which  she  could  safely  enter  became 
painfully  small.  To  avoid  conflict  with  local 
authority,  she  had  hurried  to  sea  without  clear 
ing  at  the  custom-house  from  Boston,  Bangor, 
Portland,  and  Gloucester.  She  had  carried 
local  authority  in  the  persons  of  distressed 


140  SALVAGE 

United  States  marshals  to  sea  with  her  from 
three  other  ports,  and  landed  it  on  some  out 
lying  point  before  the  next  meal-hour.  With 
her  blunt  jib-boom  she  had  prodded  a  hole 
in  the  side  of  a  lighthouse  supply-boat,  and 
sailed  away  without  answering  questions. 
The  government  was  taking  cognizance,  and 
her  description  was  written  on  the  fly-leaves 
of  several  revenue  cutters'  log-books,  while 
Sunday  newspapers  in  the  large  cities  began 
a  series  of  special  articles  about  the  mysterious 
schooner-rigged  pirate  of  the  fishing-fleet. 

The  future  looked  dark  for  her,  and  when 
the  time  came  that  she  was  chased  away  from 
Plymouth  harbor  —  which  she  had  entered 
for  provisions  —  by  a  police  launch,  it  seemed 
that  the  end  was  at  hand ;  for  she  had  done 
no  wrong  in  Plymouth,  and  the  police  boat 
was  evidently  acting  on  general  principles 
and  instructions,  which  were  vital  enough  to 
extend  the  pursuit  to  the  three-mile  limit. 
Her  trips  had  become  necessarily  longer,  and 
there  was  but  two  weeks'  supply  of  food  in 
the  lazarette.  The  New  England  coast  was 
an  enemy's  country,  but  in  the  crowded  har 
bor  of  New  York  was  a  chance  to  lie  unob 
served  at  anchor  long  enough  to  secure  the 
stores  she  needed,  which  only  a  large  city  can 
supply.  So  Cape  Cod  was  doubled  on  the 
way  to  New  York  ;  but  the  brisk  offshore 
wind,  which  had  helped  her  in  escaping  the 
police  boat,  developed  to  a  gale  that  blew  her 


SALVAGE  141 

to  sea,  and  increased  in  force  as  the  hours 
passed  by. 

Hard-headed,  reckless  fellows  were  these 
men  who  owned  the  Rosebud  and  ran  her  on 
shares  and  under  laws  of  their  own  making. 
Had  they  been  of  larger,  broader  minds,  with 
no  change  of  ethics  they  would  have  acquired 
a  larger,  faster  craft  with  guns,  hoisted  the 
black  flag,  and  sailed  southward  to  more  fruit 
ful  fields.  Being  what  they  were, —  fishermen 
gone  wrong, —  they  labored  within  their  limi 
tations  and  gleaned  upon  known  ground. 

They  were  eighteen  in  number,  and  they 
typified  the  maritime  nations  of  the  world. 
Americans  predominated,  of  course,  but  Eng 
lish,  French,  German,  Portuguese,  Scandina 
vian,  and  Russian  were  among  them.  The 
cook  was  a  West  India  negro,  and  the  cap 
tain  —  or  their  nearest  approach  to  a  captain 
—  a  Portland  Yankee.  Both  were  large  men, 
and  held  their  positions  by  reason  of  special 
knowledge  and  a  certain  magnetic  mastery  of 
soul  which  dominated  the  others  against  their 
rules  ;  for  in  this  social  democracy  captains 
and  bosses  were  forbidden.  The  cook  was  an 
expert  in  the  galley  and  a  thorough  seaman ; 
the  other  as  able  a  seaman,  and  a  navigator 
past  the  criticism  of  the  rest. 

His  navigation  had  its  limits,  however,  and 
this  gale  defined  them.  He  could  find  his 
latitude  by  meridian  observation,  and  his  lon 
gitude  by  morning  sights  and  chronometer 


142  SALVAGE 

time ;  his  dead-reckoning  was  trustworthy, 
and  he  possessed  a  fair  working  conception 
of  the  set  and  force  of  the  Atlantic  currents 
and  the  heave  of  the  sea  in  a  blow.  But  his 
studies  had  not  given  him  more  than  a  rudi 
mentary  knowledge  of  meteorology  and  the 
laws  of  storms.  A  gale  was  a  gale  to  him, 
and  he  knew  that  it  would  usually  change  its 
direction  as  a  clock's  hands  will  in  moving 
over  the  dial ;  and  if,  by  chance,  it  should 
back  around  to  its  former  point,  he  prepared 
for  heavier  trouble,  with  no  reference  to  the 
fluctuations  of  the  barometer,  which  instru 
ment  to  him  was  merely  a  weather-glass  — 
about  as  valuable  as  a  rheumatic  big  toe. 

So,  in  the  case  we  are  considering,  not 
knowing  that  he  was  caught  by  the  southern 
fringe  of  a  St.  Lawrence  valley  storm,  with  its 
center  of  low  barometer  to  the  northwest  and 
coming  toward  him,  he  hove  to  on  the  port 
tack  to  avoid  Cape  Cod,  and  drifted  to  sea, 
shortening  sail  as  the  wind  increased,  until, 
with  nothing  set  but  a  small  storm-mainsail,  he 
found  himself  in  the  sudden  calm  of  the  storm- 
center,  which  had  overtaken  him.  Here,  in  a 
tumultuous  cross-sea,  fifty  miles  off  the  shore, 
deceived  by  the  light,  shifty  airs  and  the 
patches  of  blue  sky  showing  between  the 
rushing  clouds,  he  made  all  sail  and  headed 
west,  only  to  have  the  masts  whipped  out  as 
the  whistling  fury  of  wind  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  vortex  caught  and  jibed  the  canvas. 


SALVAGE  143 

It  was  manifestly  a  judgment  of  a  displeased 
Providence ;  and,  glad  that  the  hull  was  still 
tight,  they  cut  away  the  wreck  and  rode  out 
the  gale, —  now  blowing  out  of  the  north, — 
hanging  to  the  tangle  of  spar  and  cordage 
which  had  once  been  the  foremast  and  its 
gear.  It  made  a  fairly  good  sea-anchor,  with 
the  forestay  —  strong  as  any  chain  —  for  a 
cable,  and  she  lay  snug  under  the  haphazard 
breakwater  and  benefited  by  the  protection, 
as  the  seas  must  first  break  their  heads  over 
the  wreckage  before  reaching  her.  The 
mainmast  was  far  away,  with  all  that  per 
tained  to  it ;  but  the  solid,  hard-pine  jib-boom 
was  still  intact,  and  not  one  of  the  sixteen 
dories  piled  spoon-fashion  in  the  four  nests 
had  been  injured  when  the  spars  went  by  the 
board.  So  they  were  content  to  smoke, 
sleep,  and  kill  time  as  they  could,  until  the 
gale  and  sea  should  moderate,  and  they  could 
rig  a  jury-foremast  of  the  wreck. 

But  before  they  could  begin, —  while  there 
was  still  wind  enough  to  curl  the  head  of  an 
occasional  sea  into  foam, —  a  speck  which  had 
been  showing  on  the  shortened  horizon  to 
windward,  when  the  schooner  lifted  out  of 
the  hollows,  took  form  and  identity  —  a  two- 
masted  steamer,  with  English  colors,  union 
down,  at  the  gaff.  High  out  of  water,  her 
broadside  drift  was  faster  than  that  of  the  dis 
masted  craft  riding  to  her  wreckage,  and  in  a 
few  hours  she  was  dangerously  near,  directly 


144  SALVAGE 

ahead,  rolling  heavily  in  the  trough  of  the  sea. 
They  could  see  shreds  of  canvas  hanging  from 
masts  and  gaffs. 

"  Wunner  what  's  wrong  wid  her,"  said  the 
cook,  as  he  relinquished  the  glasses  to  the 
next  man.  "  Amos,"  he  called  to  another, 
"you  Ve  been  in  the  ingine-room,  you  say. 
Is  her  ingine  bus'  down  ?  " 

"  Dunno,"  answered  Amos.  "  Steam  's  all 
right ;  see  the  jet  comin'  out  o'  the  stack  ? 
There!  she's  turnin'  over — kickin'  ahead. 
'Bout  time  if  she  wants  to  clear  us.  She  's 
signalin'.  What 's  that  say,  Elisha  ?  " 

The  ensign  was  fluttering  down,  and  a 
string  of  small  flags  going  aloft  on  the  other 
part  of  the  signal-halyards,  while  the  steamer, 
heading  west,  pushed  ahead  about  a  length 
under  the  impulse  of  her  propeller.  Elisha, 
the  navigator,  went  below,  and  returned  with 
a  couple  of  books,  which  he  consulted. 

"  Her  number,"  he  said.  "  She  's  the  Af 
ghan  Prince  o'  London."  As  the  schooner 
carried  no  signal-flags,  he  waved  his  sou' 
wester  in  answer,  and  the  flags  came  down,  to 
be  replaced  by  others. 

"  Rudder  carried  away,"  he  read,  and  then 
looked  with  the  glasses.  "  Rudder  seems  all 
right ;  must  mean  his  steerin'-gear.  Why 
don't  they  rig  up  suthin',  or  a  drag  over  the 
stern  ?  " 

"  Don't  know  enough,"  said  an  expatriated 
Englishman  of  the  crew.  "  She  's  one  o' 


SALVAGE  145 

them  bloomin',  undermanned  tramps,  run  by 
apprentices  an'  Thames  watermen.  They  're 
drivin'  sailors  an'  sailin'-ships  off  the  sea, 
blarst  'em  !  " 

"  Martin,"  said  Elisha  to  the  cook,  "  what 's 
the  matter  with  our  bein'  a  drag  for  her  ? " 

"  Dead  easy,  if  we  kin  git  his  line  an'  he 
knows  how  to  rig  a  bridle." 

"  We  can  show  him,  if  it  comes  to  it.  What 
ye  say,  boys  ?  If  we  steer  her  into  port  we  're 
entitled  to  salvage.  She  's  helpless ;  we  're 
not,  for  we  've  got  a  jury-rig  under  the  bows. 
Hello  !  what  's  he  sayin'  now  ?  "  Other  flags 
had  gone  aloft  on  the  steamer,  which  asked 
for  the  longitude.  Then  followed  others 
which  said  that  the  chronometer  was  broken. 

"  Better  'n  ever  !  "  exclaimed  Elisha,  excit 
edly.  "  Can't  navigate.  Our  chronometer 's 
all  right ;  we  never  needed  it,  an'  don't  now, 
but  it  's  a  big  help  in  a  salvage  claim.  What 
ye  say  ?  Can't  we  get  our  hemp  cable  to  him 
with  a  dory  ?  " 

Why  not?  They  were  fishermen,  accus 
tomed  to  dory  work.  A  short  confab  settled 
this  point ;  a  dory  was  thrown  over,  and  Elisha 
and  Amos  pulled  to  the  steamer,  which  was 
now  abreast,  near  enough  for  the  name  which 
Elisha  had  read  to  be  seen  plainly  on  the 
stern,  but  not  near  enough  for  the  men  shout 
ing  from  her  taffrail  to  make  themselves  heard 
on  the  schooner.  Elisha  and  Amos,  in  the  dory, 
conferred  with  these  men  and  then  returned. 


146  SALVAGE 

"  Badly  rattled/'  they  reported.  "  Tiller- 
ropes  parted,  an'  not  a  man  aboard  can  put  a 
long  splice  in  a  wire  rope,  an'  o'  course  we 
said  we  could  n't.  They  '11  take  our  line,  an' 
we  're  to  chalk  up  the  position  an'  the  course 
to  New  York.  Clear  case  o'  salvage.  We 
furnish  everything,  an'  sacrifice  our  jury-ma 
terial  to  aid  'em." 

"What  '11  be  our  chance  in  court,  I  'm 
thinkin',"  said  one,  doubtfully.  "  Had  n't  we 
better  keep  out  o'  the  courts  ?  It  's  been 
takin'  most  of  our  time  lately." 

11  What 's  the  matter  wi'  ye  ?  "  yelled  Elisha. 
"  We  owe  a  few  hundreds,  an'  mebbe  a  fine  or 
two ;  an'  there  's  anywhere  from  one  to  two 
hundred  thousand  —  hull  an'  cargo  —  that  we 
save.  We  '11  get  no  less  than  a  third,  mebbe 
more.  Go  lay  down,  Bill." 

Bill  subsided.  They  knotted  four  or  five 
dory  rodings  together,  coiled  the  long  length 
of  rope  in  the  dory,  unbent  the  end  of  their 
water-laid  cable  from  the  anchor,  and  waited 
until  the  wallowing  steamer  had  drifted  far 
enough  to  leeward  to  come  within  the  steering- 
arc  of  a  craft  with  no  canvas ;  then  they  cut 
away  the  wreck,  crowded  forward,  all  hands 
spreading  coats  to  the  breeze,  and  when  the 
schooner  had  paid  off,  steered  her  down 
with  the  wind  on  the  quarter  until  almost  near 
enough  to  hail  the  steamer,  where  they 
rounded  to,  safe  in  the  knowledge  that  she 
could  not  drift  as  fast  as  the  other. 


SALVAGE  147 

Away  went  the  dory,  paying  out  on  the 
roding,  the  end  of  which  was  fastened  to  the 
disconnected  cable,  and  when  it  had  reached 
the  steamer,  a  heaving-line  was  thrown,  by 
which  the  roding  was  hauled  aboard.  Then 
the  dory  returned,  while  the  steamer's  men 
hauled  the  cable  to  their  stern.  The  bridle, 
two  heavy  ropes  leading  from  the  after-winch 
out  the  opposite  quarter-chocks  to  the  end  of 
the  cable,  was  quickly  rigged  by  the  steam 
er's  crew. 

With  a  warning  toot  of  the  whistle,  she 
went  ahead,  and  the  long  tow-line  swept  the 
sea-tops,  tautened,  strained,  and  creaked  on 
the  windlass-bitts,  and  settled  down  to  its 
work,  while  the  schooner,  dropping  into  her 
wake,  was  dragged  westward  at  a  ten-knot 
rate. 

"This  is  bully,"  said  Elisha,  gleefully. 
"  Now  I  '11  chalk  out  the  position  an'  give  her 
the  course  —  magnetic,  to  make  sure." 

He  did  so,  and  they  held  up  in  full  view  of 
the  steamer's  bridge  a  large  blackboard  show 
ing  in  six-inch  letters  the  formula:  "  Lat. 
41-20.  Lon.  69-10.  Mag.  Co.  W.  half  S." 

A  toot  of  the  whistle  thanked  them,  and  they 
watched  the  steamer,  which  had  been  heading 
a  little  to  the  south  of  this  course,  painfully 
swing  her  head  up  to  it  by  hanging  the 
schooner  to  the  starboard  leg  of  the  bridle  ; 
but  she  did  not  stop  at  west-half-south,  and 
when  she  pointed  unmistakably  as  high  as 


148  SALVAGE 

northwest,  still  dragging  her  tow  by  the  star 
board  bridle,  a  light  broke  on  them. 

"She  's  goin'  on  her  way  with  us,"  said 
Elisha.  "  No,  no;  she  can't.  She  's  bound 
for  London,"  he  added.  "  Halifax,  mebbe." 

They  waved  their  hats  to  port,  and  shouted 
in  chorus  at  the  steamer.  They  were  an 
swered  by  caps  flourished  to  starboard  from 
the  bridge,  and  outstretched  arms  which 
pointed  across  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  while  the 
course  changed  slowly  to  north,  then  faster 
as  wind  and  sea  bore  on  the  other  bow,  until 
the  steamer  steadied  and  remained  at  east-by- 
north. 

"  The  rhumb  course  to  the  Channel," 
groaned  Elisha,  wildly.  "  The  nerve  of  it! 
An'  I  'm  supposed  to  give  the  longitude 
every  noon.  Why,  dammit,  boys,  they  '11 
claim  they  rescued  us,  an'  like  as  not  the 
English  courts  '11  allow  them  salvage  on  our 
little  tub." 

"  Let  go  the  tow-line  !  Let  'em  go  to  h — 1 ! " 
they  shouted  angrily,  and  some  started  for 
ward,  but  were  stopped  by  the  cook.  His 
eyes  gleamed  in  his  black  face,  and  his  voice 
was  a  little  higher  pitched  than  usual ;  other 
wise  he  was  the  steadiest  man  there. 

"  We  '11  hang  right  on  to  our  bran-new 
cable,  men,"  he  said.  "  It  's  ours,  not  theirs. 
'Course  we  kin  turn  her  adrif  ag'in,  an'  be 
wuss  off,  too  ;  we  can't  find  de  foremast  now. 
But  dat  ain't  de  bes'  way.  John,"  he  called 


SALVAGE  149 

to  the  Englishman  of  the  crew,  "  how  many 
men  do  you'  country  tramp  steamers  carry  ?  " 

John  computed  mentally,  then  muttered : 
"  Two  mates,  six  ash-cats,1  two  flunkies,  two 
quartermasters,  watchman,  deck-hands  —  oh, 
'bout  sixteen  or  seventeen,  Martin." 

"  Boys,  le'  's  man  de  win'lass.  We  '11  heave 
in  on  our  cable,  an'  if  we  kin  git  close  enough 
to  climb  aboard,  we  '11  reason  it  out  wid  dat 
English  cappen,  who  can't  fin'  his  way  roun' 
alone  widout  stealin'  little  fishin'-schooners." 

"  Right!"  they  yelled.  "  Man  the  wind 
lass.  We  '11  show  the  lime-juice  thief  who  's 
doin'  this." 

"  Amos,"  said  Martin  to  the  ex-engineer, 
"  you  try  an'  'member  all  you  forgot  'bout  in- 
gines  in  case  anything  happens  to  de  crew 
o'  dat  steamer  ;  an',  Elisha,  you  want  to  keep 
good  track  o'  where  we  go,  so  's  you  kin  find 
you'  way  back." 

.  "  I  '11  get  the  chronometer  on  deck  now.     I 
can  take  sights  alone." 

They  took  the  cable  to  the  windlass-barrel 
and  began  to  heave.  It  was  hard  work, — 
equal  to  heaving  an  anchor  against  a  strong 
head  wind  and  ten-knot  tideway, —  and  only 
half  the  crew  could  find  room  on  the  windlass- 
brakes  ;  so,  while  the  first  shift  labored  and 
swore  and  encouraged  one  another,  the  rest 
watched  the  approach  of  a  small  tug  towing  a 
couple  of  scows,  which  seemed  to  have  arisen 

1  Ash-cats  :  engineers  and  firemen. 


ISO  SALVAGE 

out  of  the  sea  ahead  of  them.  When  the 
steamer  was  nearly  upon  her,  she  let  go  her 
tow-line  and  ranged  up  alongside,  while  a 
man  leaning  out  of  the  pilot-house  gesticu 
lated  to  the  steamer's  bridge  and  finally  shook 
his  fist.  Then  the  tug  dropped  back  abreast 
of  the  schooner.  She  was  a  dingy  little 
boat,  the  biggest  and  brightest  of  her  fittings 
being  the  name-board  on  her  pilot-house, 
which  spelled  in  large  gilt  letters  the  appella 
tion  J.  C.  Hawks. 

"  Say,"  yelled  her  captain  from  his  door, 
"  I  'm  blown  out  wi'  my  barges,  short  o'  grub 
an'  water.  Can  you  gi'  me  some  ?  That  lime- 
juice  sucker  ahead  won't." 

"  Can  you  tow  us  to  New  York?"  asked 
Elisha,  who  had  brought  up  the  chronometer 
and  placed  it  on  the  house,  ready  to  take 
morning  sights  for  his  longitude  if  the  sun 
should  appear. 

"  No ;  not  unless  I  sacrifice  the  barges  an' 
lose  my  contract  wi'  the  city.  They  're  gar 
bage-scows,  an'  I  have  n't  power  enough  to 
hook  on  to  another.  Just  got  coal  enough 
to  get  in." 

4 'An'  what  do  you  call  this  —  a  garbage- 
scow  ?  "answered  Elisha,  ill-naturedly.  " We  've 
got  no  grub  or  water  to  spare.  We  've  got 
troubles  of  our  own." 

"  Dammit,  man,  we  're  thirsty  here.  Give 
us  a  breaker  o'  water.  Throw  it  overboard ; 
I  '11  get  it." 


SALVAGE  151 

"  No ;  told  you  we  have  none  to  spare ; 
an'  we  're  bein'  yanked  out  to  sea." 

"  Well,  gi'  me  a  bottleful ;  that  won't  hurt 
you." 

"  No  ;  sheer  off.  Git  out  o'  this.  We  're 
not  in  the  Samaritan  business." 

A  forceful  malediction  came  from  the  tug 
captain,  and  a  whirling  monkey-wrench  from 
the  hand  of  the  engineer,  who  had  listened 
from  the  engine-room  door.  It  struck  Elisha's 
chronometer  and  knocked  it  off  the  house,  box 
and  all,  into  the  sea.  He  answered  the  pro 
fanity  in  kind,  and  sent  an  iron  belaying-pin 
at  the  engineer ;  but  it  only  dented  the  tug's 
rail,  and  with  these  compliments  the  two  craft 
separated,  the  tug  steaming  back  to  her 
scows. 

"That  lessens  our  chance  just  so  much," 
growled  Elisha,  as  he  joined  the  rest.  "  Now 
we  can't  do  all  we  agreed  to." 

"  Keep  dead-reckonin',  'Lisha,"  said  Martin; 
"  dat  's  good  'nough  for  us ;  an',  say,  can't 
you  take  sights  by  a  watch — jess  for  a  bluff, 
to  show  in  de  log-book  ?  " 

"Might;  't  would  n't  be  reliable.  Good 
enough,  though,  for  log-book  testimony. 
That  's  what  I  '11  do." 

Inch  by  inch  they  gathered  in  their  cable 
and  coiled  it  down,  unmoved  by  the  protesting 
toots  of  the  steamer's  whistle.  When  half  of 
it  lay  on  the  deck,  the  steamer  slowed  down, 
while  her  crew  worked  at  their  end  of  the 


152  SALVAGE 

rope ;  then  she  went  ahead,  the  schooner 
dropped  back  to  nearly  the  original  distance, 
and  they  saw  a  long  stretch  of  new  Manila 
hawser  leading  out  from  the  bridle  and  knotted 
to  their  cable.  They  cursed  and  shook  their 
fists,  but  pumped  manfully  on  the  windlass, 
and  by  nightfall  had  brought  the  knot  over 
their  bows  by  means  of,  a  "  messenger,"  and 
were  heaving  on  the  new  hawser. 

"  Weakens  our  case  just  that  much  more," 
growled  Elisha.  "We  were  to  furnish  the 
tow-line." 

"  Heave  away,  my  boys !  "  said  Martin. 
"  Dey  's  only  so  many  ropes  aboard  her,  an' 
when  we  get  'em  all  we  've  got  dat  boat  an' 
dem  men." 

So  they  warped  their  craft  across  the  West 
ern  Ocean.  Knot  after  knot,  hawser  after 
hawser,  came  over  the  bows  and  cumbered 
the  deck. 

They  would  have  passed  them  over  the 
stern  as  fast  as  they  came  in,  were  they  not 
salvors  with  litigation  ahead  ;  for  their  hands 
must  be  clean  when  they  entered  their  claim, 
and  to  this  end  Elisha  chalked  out  the  lon 
gitude  daily  at  noon  and  showed  it  to  the 
steamer,  always  receiving  a  thankful  acknow 
ledgment  on  the  whistle.  He  secured  the  fig 
ures  by  his  dead-reckoning  ;  but  the  carefully 
kept  log-book  also  showed  longitude  by  chro 
nometer  sights,  taken  when  the  sun  shone, 
with  his  old  quadrant  and  older  watch,  and 


SALVAGE  153 

corrected  to  bring  a  result  plausibly  near  to 
that  of  the  reckoning  by  log  and  compass. 
But  the  log-book  contained  no  reference  to 
the  loss  of  the  chronometer.  That  was  to 
happen  at  the  last. 

On  stormy  days,  when  the  sea  rose,  they 
dared  not  shorten  their  tow-line,  and  the 
steamer-folk  made  sure  that  it  was  long 
enough  to  eliminate  the  risk  of  its  parting. 
So  these  days  were  passed  in  idleness  and 
profanity ;  and  when  the  sea  went  down  they 
would  go  to  work,  hoping  that  the  last  tow- 
line  was  in  their  hands.  But  it  was  not  until 
the  steamer  had  given  them  three  Manila  and 
two  steel  hawsers,  four  weak  —  too  weak  — 
mooring-chains,  and  a  couple  of  old  and  frayed 
warping-lines,  that  the  coming  up  to  the  bow 
of  an  anchor -chain  of  six-inch  link  told  them 
that  the  end  was  near,  that  the  steamer  had 
exhausted  her  supply  of  tow-lines,  and  that 
her  presumably  sane  skipper  would  not  give 
them  his  last  means  of  anchoring  —  the  other 
chain. 

They  were  right.  Either  for  this  reason  or 
because  of  the  proximity  to  English  bottom, 
the  steamer  ceased  her  coyness,  and  her  crew 
watched  from  the  taffrail,  while  those  implaca 
ble,  purposeful  men  behind  crept  up  to  them. 
It  was  slow,  laborious  work ;  for  the  small 
windlass  would  not  grip  the  heavy  links  of  the 
chain,  and  they  must  needs  climb  out  a  few 
fathoms,  making  fast  messengers  to  heave 


154  SALVAGE 

on,  while  the  idle  half  of  them  gathered  in  the 
slackened  links  by  hand. 

On  a  calm,  still  night  they  finally  unshipped 
the  windlass-brakes  and  looked  up  at  the 
round,  black  stern  of  the  steamer  not  fifty  feet 
ahead.  They  were  surrounded  by  lights  of 
outgoing  and  incoming  craft,  and  they  knew 
by  soundings  taken  that  day,  when  the  steamer 
had  slowed  down  for  the  same  purpose,  that 
they  were  within  the  hundred- fathom  curve, 
close  to  the  mouth  of  the  Channel,  but  not 
within  the  three-mile  limit.  Rejoicing  at  the 
latter  fact,  they  armed  themselves  to  a  man 
with  belaying-pins  from  their  still  intact  pin- 
rails,  and  climbed  out  on  the  cable,  the  whole 
eighteen  of  them,  man  following  man,  in  close 
climbing  order. 

"  Now,  look  here,"  said  a  portly  man  with  a 
gilt-bound  cap  to  the  leader  of  the  line,  as  he 
threw  a  leg  over  the  taffrail,  "what  's  the 
meaning,  may  I  ask,  of  this  unreasonable  con 
duct?" 

"  You  may  ask,  of  course,"  said  the  man, — 
it  was  Elisha, —  "  but  we  'd  like  to  ask  some 
thing,  too "  (he  was  sparring  for  time  until 
more  should  arrive)  ;  "  we  'd  like  to  ask  why 
you  drag  us  across  the  Atlantic  Ocean  against 
our  will  ?  " 

Another  man  climbed  aboard,  and  said  : 

"  Yes;  we  'gree  to  steer  you  into  New  York. 
You  's  adrif  in  de  trough  of  de  sea,  an'  you 
got  no  chronometer,  an'  you  can't  navigate,  an' 


SALVAGE  155 

we  come  'long  —  under  command,  mind  you  — 
an'  give  you  our  tow-line,  an'  tell  you  de  road 
to  port.  Wha'  you  mean  by  dis  ?  " 

"  Tut,  tut,  my  colored  friend  !  "  answered  the 
man  of  gilt.  "  You  were  dismasted  and  help 
less,  and  I  gave  you  a  tow.  It  was  on  the 
high  seas,  and  I  chose  the  port,  as  I  had  the 
right." 

Another  climbed  on  board. 

"  We  were  not  helpless,"  rejoined  Elisha. 
"  We  had  a  good  jury-rig  under  the  bows, 
and  we  let  it  go  to  assist  you.  Are  you  the 
skipper  here  ?  " 

«  I  am." 

Martin's  big  fist  smote  him  heavily  in  the 
face,  and  the  blow  was  followed  by  the  crash 
of  Elisha's  belaying-pin  on  his  head.  The 
captain  fell,  and  for  a  while  lay  quiet.  There 
were  four  big,  strong  men  over  the  rail  now, 
and  others  coming.  Opposing  them  were  a 
second  mate,  an  engineer,  a  fireman,  coal- 
passer,  watchman,  steward,  and  cook  —  easy 
victims  to  these  big-limbed  fishermen.  The 
rest  of  the  crew  were  on  duty  below  decks  or 
at  the  steering-winch.  It  was  a  short,  sharp 
battle ;  a  few  pistols  exploded,  but  no  one 
was  hurt,  and  the  firearms  were  captured  and 
their  owners  well  hammered  with  belaying- 
pins  ;  then,  binding  all  victims  as  they  over 
came  them,  the  whole  party  raided  the  steer 
ing-winch  and  engine-room,  and  the  piracy 
was  complete. 


156  SALVAGE 

But  from  their  standpoint  it  was  not  pi 
racy —  it  was  resistance  to  piracy ;  and  when 
Amos,  the  ex-engineer,  had  stopped  the  en 
gines  and  banked  the  fires,  they  announced  to 
the  captives  bound  to  the  rail  that,  with  all 
due  respect  for  the  law,  national  and  inter 
national,  they  would  take  that  distressed 
steamboat  into  New  York  and  deliver  her  to 
the  authorities,  with  a  claim  for  salvage.  The 
bargain  had  been  made  on  the  American 
coast,  and  their  log-book  not  only  attested 
this,  but  the  well-doing  of  their  part  of  the 
contract. 

When  the  infuriated  English  captain,  now 
recovered,  had  exhausted  his  stock  of  adjec 
tives  and  epithets,  he  informed  them  (and  he 
was  backed  by  his  steward  and  engineer)  that 
there  was  neither  food  nor  coal  for  the  run  to 
New  York  ;  to  which  Elisha  replied  that,  if 
so,  the  foolish  and  destructive  waste  would  be 
properly  entered  in  the  log-book,  and  might 
form  the  basis  of  a  charge  of  barratry  by  the 
underwriters,  if  it  turned  out  that  any  under 
writers  had  taken  a  risk  on  a  craft  with  such 
an  "all-fired  lunatic"  for  a  skipper  as  this. 
But  they  would  go  back ;  they  might  be 
forced  to  burn  some  of  the  woodwork  fittings 
(her  decks  were  of  iron)  for  fuel,  and  as  for 
food,  though  their  own  supply  of  groceries 
was  about  exhausted,  there  were  several  cubic 
yards  of  salt  codfish  in  the  schooner's  hold, 
and  this  they  would  eat :  they  were  used  to 


SALVAGE  157 

it  themselves,  and  science  had  declared  that  it 
was  good  brain-food  — good  for  feeble-minded 
Englishmen  who  could  n't  splice  wire  nor 
take  care  of  a  chronometer. 

Before  starting  back  they  made  some  pre 
liminary  and  precautionary  preparations. 
While  Martin  inventoried  the  stores  and 
Amos  the  coal-supply,  the  others  towed  the 
schooner  alongside  and  moored  her.  Then 
they  shackled  the  schooner's  end  of  the  chain 
cable  around  the  inner  barrel  of  the  windlass 
and  riveted  the  key  of  the  shackle.  They 
transhipped  their  clothing  and  what  was  left  of 
the  provisions.  They  also  took  the  log-book 
and  charts,  compass,  empty  outer  chronom 
eter-case, —  which  Elisha  handled  tenderly 
and  officiously  by  its  strap  in  full  view  of  the 
captives, —  windlass-brakes,  tool -chest,  deck- 
tools,  axes,  handspikes,  heavers,  boat-hooks, 
belaying-pins,  and  everything  in  the  shape  of 
weapon  or  missile  by  which  disgruntled  Eng 
lishmen  could  do  harm  to  the  schooner  or 
their  rescuers. 

Then  they  passed  the  rescued  ones  down 
to  the  schooner,  and  Martin  told  them  where 
they  would  find  the  iron  kettle  for  boiling  cod 
fish,  with  the  additional  information  that  with 
skill  and  ingenuity  they  could  make  fish-balls 
in  the  same  kettle. 

Martin  had  reported  a  plenitude  of  provi 
sions,  and  anathematized  the  lying  captain 
and  steward  ;  and  Amos  had  declared  his  be- 


158  SALVAGE 

lief  that  with  careful  economy  in  the  use  of 
coal  they  could  steam  to  the  American  coast 
with  the  supply  in  the  bunkers  :  so  they  did 
not  take  any  of  the  codfish,  and  the  haw 
sers,  valuable  as  fuel  in  case  of  a  shortage, 
were  left  where  they  would  be  more  valuable 
as  evidence  against  the  lawless,  incompetent 
Englishmen.  And  they  also  left  the  dories, 
all  but  one,  for  reasons  in  Elisha's  mind  which 
he  did  not  state  at  the  time. 

They  removed  the  bonds  of  one  man  —  who 
could  release  the  others — and  cast  off  the  fas 
tenings  ;  then,  with  Amos  and  a  picked  crew 
of  pupils  in  the  boat's  vitals,  they  went  ahead 
and  dropped  the  prison-hulk  back  to  the  full 
length  of  the  chain,  while  the  furious  curses 
of  the  prisoners  troubled  the  air.  They  found 
a  little  difficulty  in  steering  by  the  winch  and 
deck-compass  (they  would  have  mended  the 
tiller-ropes  with  a  section  of  backstay  had 
they  not  bargained  otherwise),  but  finally  mas 
tered  the  knack,  and  headed  westerly. 

You  cannot  take  an  Englishman's  ship  from 
under  him  —  homeward  bound  and  close  to 
port  —  and  drag  him  to  sea  again  on  a  diet 
of  salt  codfish  without  impinging  on  his  sanity. 
When  day  broke  they  looked  and  saw  the 
hawsers  slipping  over  the  schooner's  rail,  and 
afterward  a  fountain  of  fish  arising  from  her 
hatches  to  follow  the  hawsers  overboard. 

"What  's  de  game,  I  wunner?"  asked 
Martin.  "  Tryin'  to  starve  deyselves  ?  " 


SALVAGE  159 

"  Dunno,"  answered  Elisha,  with  a  serious 
expression.  "  They  're  not  doin'  it  for  nothin'. 
They  Ye  wavin'  their  hats  at  us.  Somethin' 
on  their  minds." 

"  We  '11  jes  let  'em  wave.  We  '11  go  'long 
'bout  our  business." 

So  they  went  at  eight  knots  an  hour ;  for, 
try  as  he  might,  Amos  could  get  no  more  out 
of  the  engine.  "  She  's  a  divil  to  chew  up 
coal,"  he  explained;  "  we  may  have  to  burn 
the  boat  yet." 

"  Hope  not,"  said  Elisha.  "  'Tween  you 
an'  me,  Amos,  this  is  a  desperate  bluff  we  're 
makin',  an'  if  we  go  to  destroyin'  property  we 
may  get  no  credit  for  savin'  it.  We  'd  have 
no  chance  in  the  English  courts  at  all,  but  it 's 
likely  an  American  judge  'ud  recognize  our 
original  position — ourbargain  to  steer  her  in." 

4 'Too  bad  'bout  that  tarred  cable  of  ours," 
rejoined  Amos;  "  three  days'  good  fuel  in 
that,  I  calculate." 

"Well,  it  's  gone  with  the  codfish,  and  the 
fact  is  properly  entered  in  the  log  as  barra 
trous  conduct  on  the  part  of  the  skipper. 
Enough  to  prove  him  insane." 

And  further  to  strengthen  this  possible  as 
pect  of  the  case,  Elisha  found  a  blank  space 
on  the  leaf  of  the  log-book  which  recorded  the 
first  meeting  and  bargain  to  tow,  and  filled  it 
with  the  potential  sentence,  "  Steamer's  com 
mander  acts  strangely."  For  a  well-kept  log 
book  is  excellent  testimony  in  court. 


160  SALVAGE 

Elisha' s  knowledge  of  navigation  did  not 
enable  him  to  project  a  course  on  the  great 
circle  —  the  shortest  track  between  two  points 
on  the  earth's  surface,  and  the  route  taken  by 
steamers.  But  he  possessed  a  fairly  practical 
and  ingenious  mind,  and  with  a  flexible  steel 
straight-edge  rule,  and  a  class-room  globe  in 
the  skipper's  room,  laid  out  his  course  between 
the  lane-routes  of  the  liners, —  which  he  would 
need  to  vary  daily, —  as  it  was  not  wise  to  court 
investigation.  But  he  signaled  to  two  pass 
ing  steamships  for  Greenwich  time,  and  set 
his  watch,  obtaining  its  rate  of  correction  by 
the  second  favor ;  and  with  this,  and  his  surely 
correct  latitude  by  meridian  observation,  he 
hoped  to  make  an  accurate  landfall  in  home 
waters. 

And  so  the  hours  went  by,  with  their  cap 
tives  waving  caps  ceaselessly,  until  the  third 
day's  sun  arose  to  show  them  an  empty  deck 
on  the  schooner,  over  a  dozen  specks  far 
astern  and  to  the  southward,  and  an  east- 
bound  steamship  on  their  port  bow.  The 
specks  could  be  nothing  but  the  dories,  and 
they  were  evidently  trying  to  intercept  the 
steamship.  Elisha  yelled  in  delight. 

"  They  've  abandoned  ship — just  what  I 
hoped  for — in  the  dories.  They  've  no  case  at 
all  now." 

"But  what  for,  Elisha?"  asked  Martin. 
"  Mus'  be  hungry,  I  t'ink." 

"  Mebbe,  or  else  they  think  that  liner,  who 


SALVAGE  161 

can  stop  only  to  save  life, —  carries  the  mails, 
you  see, —  will  turn  round  and  put  'em  in 
charge  here.  Why,  nothin'  but  an  English 
man-o'-war  could  do  that  now." 

They  saw  the  steamship  slow  down,  while 
the  black  specks  flocked  up  to  her,  and  then 
go  on  her  way.  And  they  went  on  theirs  ;  but 
three  days  later  they  had  reasoned  out  a  bet 
ter  explanation  of  the  Englishmen's  conduct. 
Martin  came  on  deck  with  a  worried  face,  and 
announced  that,  running  short  of  salt  meat  in 
the  harness-cask,  he  had  broken  out  the  bar 
rels  of  beef,  pork,  and  hard  bread  that  he  had 
counted  upon,  and  found  their  contents  abso 
lutely  uneatable,  far  gone  in  putrescence, 
alive  with  crawling  things. 

"  Must  ha'  thought  he  was  fitting  out  a 
Yankee  hell-ship  when  he  bought  this,"  said 
Elisha,  in  disgust,  as  he  looked  into  the  ill- 
smelling  barrels.  "  Overboard  with  it,  boys!  " 

Overboard  went  the  provisions,  for  starving 
animals  could  not  eat  of  them,  and  the  odor 
permeated  the  ship.  They  resigned  them 
selves  to  a  gloomy  outlook  —  gloomier  when 
Amos  reported  that  the  coal  in  the  bunkers 
would  last  but  two  days  longer.  He  had  been 
mistaken,  he  said ;  he  had  calculated  to  run 
compound  engines  with  Scotch  boilers,  not  a 
full-powered  blast-furnace  with  six  inches  of 
scale  on  the  crown-sheets. 

"  And  they  knew  this,"  groaned  Elisha. 
"  That  's  why  they  chucked  the  stuff  over- 


1 62  SALVAGE 

board  —  to  bring  us  to  terms,  and  never 
thinkin'  they  'd  starve  first.  They  were  dead 
luny,  but  we  Ye  lunier." 

They  stopped  the  engines  and  visited  the 
schooner  in  the  dory.  Not  a  scrap  of  food 
was  there,  and  the  fish-kettle  was  scraped 
bright.  They  returned  and  went  on.  With 
plenty  of  coal  there  was  still  six  days'  run 
ahead  to  New  York.  How  many  with  wood 
fuel,  chopped  on  empty  stomachs  and  burned 
in  coal- furnaces,  they  could  not  guess.  But 
they  went  to  work.  There  were  three  axes, 
two  top-mauls,  and  several  handspikes  and 
pinch-bars  aboard,  and  with  these  they  at 
tacked  bulkheads  and  spare  woodwork,  and 
fed  the  fires  with  the  fragments  ;  for  a  glance 
down  the  hatches  had  shown  them  nothing 
more  combustible  and  detachable  in  the  cargo 
than  a  few  layers  of  railroad  iron,  which  cov 
ered  and  blocked  the  openings  to  the  lower 
hold. 

With  the  tools  at  hand  they  could  not  sup 
ply  the  rapacious  fires  fast  enough  to  keep  up 
steam,  and  the  engines  slowed  to  a  five-knot 
rate.  As  this  would  not  maintain  a  sufficient 
tension  on  the  dragging  schooner  to  steer  by, 
they  were  forced  to  sacrifice  the  best  item 
in  their  claim  for  salvage  :  they  spliced  the 
tiller-ropes  and  steered  from  the  pilot-house. 
They  would  have  sacrificed  the  schooner,  too, 
for  Amos  complained  bitterly  of  the  load  on 
the  engines ;  but  Elisha  would  not  hear  of  it. 


SALVAGE  163 

She  was  the  last  evidence  in  their  favor  now, 
their  last  connection  with  respectability. 

"  She  and  the  pavement  o'  h — 1,"  he 
growled  fiercely,  "  are  all  we  've  got  to  back 
us  up.  Without  proof  we  're  pirates  under 
the  law." 

However,  he  made  no  entry  in  the  log  of 
the  splicing,  trusting  that  a  chance  would 
come  in  port  to  remove  the  section  of  wire 
rope  with  which  they  had  joined  the  broken 
ends. 

And,  indeed,  it  seemed  that  their  claim  was 
dwindling.  The  chronometer  which  they 
were  to  use  for  the  steamer's  benefit  was  lost  ; 
the  tow-line  which  they  were  to  furnish  had 
been  given  back  to  them  ;  the  course  to  New 
York  which  they  chalked  out  had  not  been 
accepted ;  the  abandoning  of  their  ship  by 
the  Englishmen  was  clearly  enforced  by  the 
pressure  of  their  own  presence  ;  and  now  they 
themselves  had  been  forced  to  cancel  from  the 
claim  the  schooner's  value  as  a  necessary 
drag  behind  the  steamer,  by  substituting  a 
three  hours'  splicing-job,  worth  five  dollars 
in  a  rigging-loft,  and  possibly  fifty  if  bar 
gained  for  at  sea.  Nothing  was  left  them 
now  but  their  good  intentions,  duly  entered 
in  the  log-book. 

But  fate,  and  the  stupid  understanding  of 
some  one  or  two  of  them,  decreed  that  their 
good  intentions  also  should  be  taken  from 
them.  The  log-book  disappeared,  and  the 


1 64  SALVAGE 

strictest  search  failing  to  bring  it  to  light,  the 
conclusion  was  reached  that  it  had  been  fed 
to  the  fires  among  the  wreckage  of  the  skip 
per's  room  and  furniture.  They  blasphemed 
to  the  extent  that  the  occasion  required,  and 
there  was  civil  war  for  a  time,  while  the  sus 
pected  ones  were  being  punished  ;  then  they 
drew  what  remaining  comfort  they  could 
from  burning  the  steamer's  log-book  and 
track-chart,  which  contained  data  conflicting 
with  their  position  in  the  case,  and  resumed 
their  labors. 

Martin  had  raked  and  scraped  together 
enough  of  food  to  give  them  two  scant  meals ; 
but  these  eaten,  starvation  began.  The  de 
tails  of  their  suffering  need  not  be  given. 
They  chopped,  hammered,  and  pried  in  hun 
ger  and  anxiety,  and  with  lessening  strength, 
while  the  days  passed  by  —  fortunately  spared 
the  torture  of  thirst,  for  there  was  plenty  of 
water  in  the  tanks.  Upheld  by  the  dominat 
ing  influence  of  Elisha,  Martin,  and  Amos, 
they  stripped  the  upper  works  and  fed  to  the 
fires  every  door  and  sash,  every  bulkhead 
and  wooden  partition,  all  chairs,  stools,  and 
tables,  cabin  berths  and  forecastle  bunks. 
Then  they  attempted  sending  down  the  top 
masts,  but  gave  it  up  for  lack  of  strength  to 
get  mast-ropes  aloft,  and  attacked  instead 
the  boats  on  the  chocks,  of  which  there  were 
four. 

It  was  no  part  of  the  plan  to  ask  help  of 


SALVAGE  165 

passing  craft  and  have  their  distressed  con 
dition  taken  advantage  of;  but  when  the 
hopelessness  of  the  fight  at  last  appealed  to 
the  master  spirits,  they  consented  to  the  sig 
naling  of  an  east-bound  steamer,  far  to  the 
northward,  in  the  hope  of  getting  food.  So 
the  English  ensign,  union  down,  was  again 
flown  from  the  gaff.  It  was  at  a  time  when 
Elisha  could  not  stand  up  at  the  wheel, 
when  Amos  at  the  engines  could  not  have  re 
versed  them,  when  Martin  —  man  of  iron  — 
staggered  weakly  around  among  the  rest  and 
struck  them  with  a  pump-brake,  keeping  them 
at  work.  (They  would  strive  under  the  blows, 
and  sit  down  when  he  had  passed.)  But  the 
flag  was  not  seen  ;  a  haze  arose  between  the 
two  craft  and  thickened  to  fog. 

By  Elisha's  reckoning  they  were  on  the 
Banks  now,  about  a  hundred  miles  due  south 
from  Cape  Sable,  and  nearer  to  Boston  than 
to  Halifax ;  otherwise  he  might  have  made 
for  the  latter  port  and  defied  alien  prejudice. 
But  the  fog  continued,  and  it  was  not  port 
they  were  looking  for  now ;  it  was  help,  food  : 
they  were  working  for  life,  not  salvage  ;  and, 
wasting  no  steam,  they  listened  for  whistles 
or  fog-horns,  but  heard  none  near  enough  to 
be  answered  by  their  weak  voices. 

And  so  the  boat,  dragging  the  dismal 
mockery  behind  her,  plodded  and  groped  her 
way  on  the  course  which  Elisha  had  shaped 
for  Boston,  while  man  after  man  dropped  in 


1 66  SALVAGE 

his  tracks,  refusing  to  rise;  and  those  that  were 
left  nourished  the  fires  as  they  could,  until  the 
afternoon  of  the  third  day  of  fog,  when  the 
thumping,  struggling  engines  halted,  started, 
made  a  half-revolution,  and  came  to  a  dead 
stop.  Amos  crawled  on  deck  and  forward  to 
the  bridge,  where,  with  Elisha's  help,  he 
dragged  on  the  whistle-rope  and  dissipated 
the  remaining  steam  in  a  wheezy,  gasping 
howl,  which  lasted  about  a  half-minute.  It 
was  answered  by  a  furious  siren-blast  from 
directly  astern ;  and  out  of  the  fog,  at  twenty 
knots  an  hour,  came  a  mammoth  black 
steamer.  Seeming  to  heave  the  small  tramp 
out  of  the  way  with  her  bow  wave,  she  roared 
by  at  six  feet  distance,  and  in  ten  seconds 
they  were  looking  at  her  vanishing  stern. 
But  ten  minutes  later  the  stern  appeared  in 
view,  as  the  liner  backed  toward  them.  The 
reversed  English  ensign  still  hung  at  the 
gaff;  and  the  starving  men,  some  prostrate 
on  the  deck,  some  clinging  to  the  rails,  un 
able  to  shout,  had  pointed  to  the  flag  of  dis 
tress  and  beckoned  as  the  big  ship  rushed  by. 

"  THERE  's  a  chance,"  said  the  captain  of 
this  liner  to  the  pilot,  as  he  rejoined  him  on 
the  bridge  an  hour  later,  "  of  international 
complications  over  this  case,  and  I  may  have 
to  lose  a  trip  to  testify.  That  's  the  Afghan 
Prince  and  consort  that  I  was  telling  you 
about.  Strange,  is  n't  it,  that  I  should  pick 


SALVAGE  167 

up  these  fellows  after  picking  up  the  legiti 
mate  crew  going  east  ?  I  don't  know  which 
crew  was  the  hungriest.  The  real  crew 
charge  this  crowd  with  piracy.  By  George, 
it  's  rather  funny  !  " 

"And  these  men,"  said  the  pilot,  with  a 
laugh,  "  would  have  claimed  salvage  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  had  a  good  claim,  too,  for  effort 
expended ;  but  they  Ve  offset  it  by  their  vio 
lence.  Their  chance  was  good  in  the  Eng 
lish  courts,  if  they  'd  only  allowed  the  steamer 
to  go  on  ;  and  then,  too,  they  abandoned  her  in 
a  more  dangerous  position  than  where  they 
found  her.  You  see,  they  met  her  off  Nan- 
tucket  with  sea-room,  and  nothing  wrong 
with  her  but  broken  tiller-ropes ;  and  they 
quit  her  here  close  to  Sandy  Hook,  in  a  fog, 
more  than  likely  to  hit  the  beach  before  morn 
ing.  Then,  in  that  case,  she  belongs  to  the 
owners  or  underwriters." 

"Why  did  n't  they  make  Boston?"  asked 
the  pilot. 

"Tried  to,  but  overran  their  distance. 
Chronometer  must  have  been  'way  out.  I 
talked  to  the  one  who  navigated,  and  found 
that  he  'd  never  thought  of  allowing  for  local 
attraction, —  did  n't  happen  to  run  against 
the  boat's  deviation  table, —  and  so,  with  all 
that  railway  iron  below  hatches,  he  fetched 
clear  o'  Nantucket,  and  'way  in  here." 

"That  's  tough.  The  salvage  of  that 
steamer  would  make  them  rich,  would  n't  it  ? 


168  SALVAGE 

And  I  think  they  might  have  got  it  if  they 
could  have  held  out." 

"  Yes ;  think  they  might.  But  here  's  an 
other  funny  thing  about  it.  They  need  n't 
have  starved.  They  need  n't  have  chopped 
her  to  pieces  for  fuel.  I  just  remember,  now. 
Her  skipper  told  me  there  was  good  anthra 
cite  coal  in  her  hold,  and  Chicago  canned 
meats,  Minnesota  flour,  beef,  pork,  and  all 
sorts  of  good  grub.  He  carried  some  of  the 
rails  in  the  'tween-deck  for  steadying  ballast, 
and  I  suppose  it  prevented  them  looking 
farther.  And  now  they  '11  lose  their  salvage, 
and  perhaps  have  to  pay  it  on  their  own 
schooner  if  anything  comes  along  and  picks 
them  up.  That  's  the  craft  that  '11  get  the 
salvage." 

"  Not  likely,"  said  the  pilot;  "not  in  this 
fog,  and  the  wind  and  sea  rising.  I  '11  give 
'em  six  hours  to  fetch  up  on  the  Jersey  coast. 
A  mail  contract  with  the  government  is  some 
times  a  nuisance,  is  n't  it,  captain  ?  How  many 
years  would  it  take  you  to  save  money  to 
equal  your  share  of  the  salvage  if  you  had 
yanked  that  tramp  and  the  schooner  into  New 
York?" 

"  It  would  take  more  than  one  lifetime," 
answered  the  captain,  a  little  sadly.  "  A 
skipper  on  a  mail-boat  is  the  biggest  fool  that 
goes  to  sea." 

The  liner  did  not  reach  quarantine  until 
after  sundown,  hence  remained  there  through 


SALVAGE  169 

the  night.  As  she  was  lifting  her  anchor  in 
the  morning,  preparatory  to  steaming  up  to 
her  dock,  the  crew  of  the  Rosebud,  refreshed 
by  food  and  sleep,  but  still  weak  and  nerve 
less,  came  on  deck  to  witness  a  harrowing 
sight.  The  Afghan  Prince  was  coming  to 
ward  the  anchorage  before  a  brisk  south 
east  wind.  Astern  of  her,  held  by  the  heavy 
iron  chain,  was  their  schooner.  Moored  to 
her,  one  on  each  side,  were  two  garbage- 
scows  ;  and  at  the  head  of  the  parade,  pre 
tending  to  tow  them  all, —  puffing,  rolling, 
and  smoking  in  the  effort  to  keep  a  strain  on 
the  tow-line, —  and  tooting  joyously  with  her 
whistle,  was  a  little,  dingy  tugboat,  with  a 
large  gilt  name  on  her  pilot-house  —  J.  C. 
Hawks. 


BETWEEN   THE    MILLSTONES 

HE  stood  before  the  recruiting  officer, 
trembling  with  nervousness,  anxious  of 
face,  and  clothed  in  rags ;  but  he  was  clean, 
for,  knowing  the  moral  effect  of  cleanliness, 
he  had  lately  sought  the  beach  and  taken  a 
swim. 

"Want  to  enlist ?"  asked  the  officer,  tak 
ing  his  measure  with  trained  eye. 

"Yes,  sir;  I  read  you  wanted  men  in  the 
navy." 

"  Want  seamen,  firemen,  and  landsmen. 
What  's  your  occupation  ?  You  look  like  a 
tramp." 

"Yes,"  he  answered  bitterly,  "  I  'm  a 
tramp.  That 's  all  they  'd  let  me  be.  I  used 
to  be  a  locomotive  engineer  —  before  the  big 
strike.  Then  they  blacklisted  me,  and  I  Ve 
never  had  a  job  above  laborin'  work  since. 
It  's  easy  to  take  to  the  road  and  stay  at  it 
when  you  find  you  can't  make  over  a  dollar  a 
day  at  back-breakin'  work  after  earnin'  three 
and  four  at  the  throttle.  An  engineer  knows 

170 


BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES  171 

nothin'  but  his  trade,  sir.  Take  it  away,  and 
he  's  a  laborin'  man. 

"  I  'd  ha'  worked  and  learned  another,  but 
they  jailed  me  —  put  me  in  choky,  'cause  I 
had  no  visible  means  o'  support.  I  had  no 
money,  and  was  a  criminal  under  the  law. 
And  they  kept  at  it, — jailed  me  again  and 
again  as  a  vagrant, —  when  all  I  wanted  was 
work.  After  a  while  I  did  n't  care.  But  now 's 
my  chance,  sir,  if  you  '11  take  me  on.  I 
don't  know  much  about  boats  and  the  sea, 
but  I  can  fire  an  engine,  and  know  something 
about  steam." 

"  A  fireman's  work  on  board  a  war- vessel 
is  very  different  from  that  of  a  locomotive 
fireman,"  said  the  officer,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair. 

"  I  know,  sir;  that  may  be,"  the  tramp  re 
plied  eagerly;  "but  I  can  shovel  coal,  and  I 
can  learn,  and  I  can  work.  I  'm  not  very 
strong  now,  'cause  I  have  n't  had  much  to 
eat  o'  late  years  ;  but  I  'm  not  a  drinkin'  man 
—  why,  that  costs  more  than  grub.  Give  me  a 
chance,  sir  ;  I  'm  an  American  ;  I  'm  sick  o' 
bein'  hunted  from  jail  to  jail,  like  a  wild  ani 
mal,  just  'cause  I  can't  be  satisfied  with  pick- 
and-shovel  work.  I  've  spent  half  o'  the  last 
five  years  in  jail  as  a  vagrant.  I  put  in  a 
month  at  Fernandina,  and  then  I  was  chased 
out  o'  town.  They  gave  me  two  months  at 
Cedar  Keys,  and  I  came  here,  only  to  get 
a  month  more  in  this  jail.  I  got  out  this 


i;2  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

mornin',  and  was  told  by  the  copper  who 
pinched  me  to  get  out  o'  Pensacola  or  he  'd 
run  me  in  again.  And  he  's  outside  now 
waitin'  for  me.  I  dodged  past  'im  to  get  in." 

"  Pass  this  man  in  to  the  surgeon,"  said  the 
officer,  with  something  like  a  sympathetic 
snort  in  the  tone  of  his  voice ;  for  he  also  was 
an  American. 

An  orderly  escorted  him  to  the  surgeon, 
who  examined  him  and  passed  him.  Then 
the  recruit  signed  his  name  to  a  paper. 

"  Emaciated,"  wrote  the  surgeon  in  his 
daily  report;  "body  badly  nourished,  and 
susceptible  to  any  infection.  Shows  slight 
febrile  symptoms,  which  should  be  attended 
to.  An  intelligent  man  ;  with  good  food  and 
care  will  become  valuable." 

The  tramp  marched  to  the  receiving-ship 
with  a  squad  of  other  recruits,  and  on  the 
way  smiled  triumphantly  into  the  face  of  a 
mulatto  policeman,  who  glared  at  him.  He 
had  signed  his  name  on  a  piece  of  paper,  and 
the  act  had  changed  his  status.  From  a 
hunted  fugitive  and  habitual  criminal  he  had 
become  a  defender  of  his  country's  honor  — 
a  potential  hero. 

On  board  the  receiving-ship  he  was  given 
an  outfit  of  clothes  and  bedding ;  but  before 
he  had  learned  more  than  the  correct  way  to 
lash  his  hammock  and  tie  his  silk  neckerchief 
he  was  detailed  for  sea  duty,  and  with  a  draft 
of  men  went  to  Key  West  in  a  navy-yard 


BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES  173 

tug ;  for  war  was  on,  and  the  fleet  blockading 
Havana  needed  men. 

At  Key  West  he  was  appointed  fireman  on 
a  torpedo-boat,  where  his  work  —  which  he 
soon  learned  —  was  to  keep  up  steam  in  a 
tubular  boiler.  But  he  learned  nothing  of 
the  rest  of  the  boat,  her  business,  or  the 
reason  of  her  construction.  Seasickness  pre 
vented  any  assertion  of  curiosity  at  first,  and 
later  the  febrile  symptoms  which  the  exam 
ining  surgeon  had  noted  developed  in  him 
until  he  could  think  of  nothing  else.  There 
being  no  doctor  aboard  to  diagnose  his  case, 
he  was  jeered  by  his  fellows,  and  kept  at 
work  until  he  dropped ;  then  he  took  to  his 
hammock.  Shooting  pains  darted  through 
him,  centering  in  his  head,  while  his  throat 
was  dry  and  his  thirst  tormenting. 

Life  on  a  torpedo-boat  engaged  in  despatch 
duty  and  rushing  through  a  Gulf  Stream  sea 
at  thirty  knots  is  torture  to  a  healthy,  nervous 
system.  It  sent  this  sick  man  into  speedy 
delirium.  He  could  eat  very  little,  but  he 
drank  all  the  water  that  was  given  him. 
Moaning  and  muttering,  tossing  about  in  his 
hammock,  never  asleep,  but  sometimes  un 
conscious,  at  other  times  raving,  and  occa 
sionally  lucid,  he  presented  a  problem  which 
demanded  solution.  His  emaciated  face, 
flushed  at  first,  had  taken  on  a  peculiar 
bronzed  appearance,  and  there  were  some 
who  declared  that  it  was  Yellow  Jack.  But 


174  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

nothing  could  be  done  until  they  reached  the 
fleet  and  could  interview  a  cruiser  with  a 
surgeon. 

The  sick  man  solved  the  problem.  He 
scrambled  out  of  his  hammock  at  daylight 
in  the  morning  and  dressed  himself  in  his 
blue  uniform,  carefully  tying  his  black  neck 
erchief  in  the  regulation  knot.  Then,  mut 
tering  the  while,  he  gained  the  deck. 

The  boat  was  charging  along  at  full  speed, 
throwing  aside  a  bow  wave  nearly  as  high  as 
herself.  Three  miles  astern,  just  discernible 
in  the  half-light,  was  a  pursuing  ram-bowed 
gunboat,  spitting  shot  and  shell ;  and  forward 
near  the  conning-tower  were  two  blue-coated, 
brass-buttoned  officers,  watching  the  pursuer 
through  binoculars. 

The  crazed  brain  of  the  sick  man  took  cog 
nizance  of  nothing  but  the  blue  coats  and 
brass  buttons.  He  did  not  look  for  locust 
clubs  and  silver  shields.  These  were  police 
men — his  deadliest  enemies;  but  he  would 
escape  them  this  time. 

With  a  yell  he  went  overboard,  and,  being 
no  swimmer,  would  have  drowned  had  not 
one  of  the  blue-coated  officers  flung  a  life 
buoy.  He  came  to  the  surface  somewhat 
saner,  and  seized  the  white  ring,  which  sup 
ported  him,  while  the  torpedo-boat  rushed 
on.  She  could  not  stop  for  one  man  in  time 
of  war,  with  a  heavily  armed  enemy  so  near. 

A    twenty-knot    gunboat   cannot   chase    a 


BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES  175 

thirty-knot  torpedo-boat  very  long  without 
losing  her  below  the  horizon  ;  but  this  pursuit 
lasted  ten  minutes  from  the  time  the  sick 
man  went  overboard  before  the  gunboat 
ceased  firing  and  slackened  speed.  The 
quarry  was  five  miles  away,  out  of  Spanish 
range,  and  the  floating  man  directly  under 
her  bow.  He  was  seen  and  taken  on  board, 
with  Spanish  profanity  sounding  in  his  un- 
regarding  ears. 

He  lay  on  the  deck,  a  bedraggled  heap, 
gibbering  and  shivering,  while  a  surgeon, 
with  cotton  in  his  nostrils  and  smelling-salts 
in  his  hand,  diagnosed  his  case.  Then  the 
gunboat  headed  north  and  dropped  anchor 
in  the  bight  of  a  small,  crescent-shaped  sand- 
key  of  the  Florida  Reef.  For  the  diagnosis 
was  such  as  to  suggest  prompt  action.  Two 
brave  men  bundled  him  into  the  dinghy,  low 
ered  it,  pulled  ashore,  and  laid  him  on  the 
sand. 

Returning,  they  stripped  and  threw  away 
their  clothing,  sank  the  boat  with  a  buoy  on 
the  painter,  took  a  swim,  and  climbed  aboard 
to  be  further  disinfected.  Then  the  gunboat 
lifted  her  anchor  and  steamed  eastward,  her 
officers  watching  through  glasses  a  small,  low 
torpedo-boat,  far  to  the  southeast, —  too  far 
to  be  reached  by  gun  fire, —  which  was  steer 
ing  a  parallel  course,  and  presumably  watch 
ing  the  gunboat. 

An   idiot,   a   lunatic,  with    bloodshot   eyes 


176  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

glaring  from  a  yellow  face,  raved,  rolled,  and 
staggered  bareheaded  under  the  sun  about 
the  sandy  crescent  until  sundown,  then  fell 
prostrate  and  unconscious  into  the  water  on 
the  beach,  luckily  turning  over  so  that  his 
nostrils  were  not  immersed.  The  tide  went 
down,  leaving  him  damp  and  still  on  the 
sands.  In  about  an  hour  a  sigh,  followed  by 
a  deep,  gasping  breath,  escaped  him ;  another 
long  inhalation  succeeded,  and  another ;  then 
came  steady,  healthy  breathing  and  childlike 
sleep,  with  perspiration  oozing  from  every 
pore.  He  had  passed  a  crisis. 

About  midnight  the  cloudy  sky  cleared 
and  the  tropic  stars  came  out,  while  the  tide 
climbed  the  beach  again,  and  lapped  at  the 
sleeping  man's  feet ;  but  he  did  not  waken, 
even  when  the  Spanish  gunboat  stole  slowly 
into  the  bay  from  the  sea  and  dropped  anchor 
with  a  loud  rattling  of  chain  in  the  hawse- 
pipe.  A  boat  was  lowered,  and  a  single  man 
sculled  it  ashore ;  then  lifting  out  a  small  cask 
and  bag,  he  placed  them  high  on  the  sands 
and  looked  around. 

Spying  the  sleeping  man,  half  immersed 
now,  he  approached  and  felt  of  the  damp 
clothing  and  equally  damp  face.  Not  notic 
ing  that  he  breathed  softly,  the  man  crossed 
himself,  then  moved  quickly  and  nervously 
toward  his  boat,  muttering,  "Muerto,  muerto!" 
Pushing  out,  he  sculled  rapidly  toward  the 
anchored  craft,  and  disposed  of  the  boat  and 


BETWEEN   THE  MILLSTONES  177 

his  clothing  as  had  been  done  before ;  then 
he  swam  to  the  gangway  and  climbed  aboard. 

Shortly  after,  the  sleeping  man,  roused  by 
the  chill  of  the  water,  crawled  aimlessly  up 
the  sand  and  slept  again  —  safe  beyond  the 
tide-line.  In  three  hours  he  sat  up  and 
rubbed  his  eyes,  half  awake,  but  sane. 

Strange  sights  and  sounds  puzzled  him. 
He  knew  nothing  of  this  starlit  beach  and 
stretch  of  sparkling  water  —  nothing  of  that 
long  black  craft  at  anchor,  with  the  longer 
beam  of  white  light  reaching  over  the  sea 
from  her  pilot-house.  He  could  only  surmise 
that  she  was  a  war-vessel  from  the  ram-bow, 
—  a  feature  of  the  government  model  which 
had  impressed  him  at  Key  West, —  and  from 
the  noise  she  was  making.  She  quivered  in 
a  maze  of  flickering  red  flashes,  and  the  rat 
tling  din  of  her  rapid-fire  and  machine  guns 
transcended  in  volume  all  the  roadside  blast 
ings  he  had  heard  in  his  wanderings.  Dazed 
and  astonished,  he  rose  to  his  feet,  but,  too 
weak  to  stand,  sat  down  again  and  looked. 

Half  a  mile  seaward,  where  the  beam  of 
light  ended,  a  small  craft,  low  down  between 
two  crested  waves,  was  speeding  toward  the 
gunboat  in  the  face  of  her  fire.  The  water 
about  her  was  lashed  into  turmoil  by  the  hail 
of  projectiles ;  but  she  kept  on,  at  locomotive 
speed,  until  within  a  thousand  feet  of  the 
gunboat,  when  she  turned  sharply  to  star 
board,  doubled  on  her  track,  and  raced  off  to 


i;8  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

sea,  still  covered  by  the  search-light  and  fol 
lowed  by  shot  and  shell  while  the  gunners 
could  see  her. 

When  the  gun  fire  ceased,  a  hissing  of 
steam  could  be  heard  in  the  distance,  and  a 
triumphant  Spanish  yell  answered.  The  small 
enemy  had  been  struck,  and  the  gunboat 
slipped  her  cable  and  followed. 

The  tired  brain  could  not  cope  with  the 
problem,  and  again  the  man  slept,  to  awaken 
at  sunrise  with  ravenous  hunger  and  thirst, 
and  a  memory  of  what  seemed  to  be  horrible 
dreams, —  vague  recollections  of  painful  expe 
riences, —  torturing  labor  with  aching  muscles 
and  blistered  hands ;  harsh  words  and  ridi 
cule  from  strong,  bearded  men  ;  and  running 
through  and  between,  the  shadowy  figures  of 
blue-coated,  brass-buttoned  men,  continually 
ordering  him  on,  and  threatening  arrest. 
The  spectacle  of  the  night  was  as  dream-like 
as  the  rest ;  for  he  remembered  nothing  of 
the  gunboat  which  had  rescued  and  marooned 
him. 

His  face  had  lost  its  yellowish-bronze  color, 
but  was  pale  and  emaciated  as  ever,  while  his 
sunken  eyes  held  the  soft  light  which  always 
comes  of  extreme  physical  suffering.  He  was 
too  weak  to  remain  on  his  feet,  but  in  the 
effort  to  do  so  he  spied  the  cask  and  bag 
higher  up  on  the  beach  and  crawled  to  them. 
Prying  a  plug  from  the  bunghole  with  his 
knife,  he  found  water,  sweet  and  delicious, 


BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES  179 

which  he  drank  by  rolling  the  cask  carefully 
and  burying  his  lips  in  the  overflow.  Evi 
dently  some  one  in  authority  on  the  gunboat 
had  decreed  that  he  should  not  die  of  hunger 
or  thirst,  for  the  bag  contained  hard  bread. 

Stronger  after  a  meal,  he  climbed  the  high 
est  sand-dune  and  studied  the  situation.  An 
outcropping  of  coral  formed  the  backbone  of 
the  thin  crescent  which  held  him,  and  which 
was  about  half  a  mile  between  the  points.  To 
the  south,  opening  out  from  the  bay,  was  a 
clear  stretch  of  sea,  green  in  the  sunlight,  deep 
blue  in  the  shadows  of  the  clouds,  and  on  the 
horizon  were  a  few  sails  and  smoke  columns. 
West  and  east  were  other  sandy  islets  and 
coral  reefs,  and  to  the  north  a  continuous  line 
of  larger  islands  which  might  be  inhabited, 
but  gave  no  indication  of  it. 

Out  in  the  bay,  bobbing  to  the  heave  of 
the  slight  ground-swell,  were  the  three  white 
buoys  left  by  the  Spaniards  to  mark  the 
sunken  boats  and  slipped  cable ;  and  far  away 
on  the  beach,  just  within  the  western  point, 
was  something  long  and  round,  which  rolled 
in  the  gentle  surf  and  glistened  in  the  sunlight. 
He  knew  nothing  of  buoys,  but  they  relieved 
his  loneliness ;  they  were  signs  of  human  be 
ings,  who  must  have  placed  him  there  with 
the  bread  and  water,  and  who  might  come  for 
him. 

"  Wonder  if  I  got  pinched  again,  and  this 
is  some  new  kind  of  a  choky,"  he  mused. 


i8o  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

"  Been  blamed  sick  and  silly,  and  must  ha* 
lost  the  job  and  got  jailed  again.  Just  my 
luck  !  S'pose  the  jug  was  crowded  and  they 
run  me  out  here.  Wish  they  'd  left  me  a  hat. 
Wonder  how  long  I  'm  in  for  this  time." 

He  descended  to  the  beach  and  found  that 
repeated  wettings  of  his  hair  relieved  him 
from  the  headache  that  the  sun's  heat  was 
bringing  on ;  and  satisfied  that  the  strong 
hand  of  local  law  had  again  closed  over  him, 
he  resigned  himself  to  the  situation,  resenting 
only  the  absence  of  a  shade-tree  or  a  hat. 
"  Much  better  'n  the  calaboose  in  El  Paso," 
he  muttered,  "  or  the  brickyard  in  Chicago." 

As  he  lolled  on  the  sand,  the  glistening 
thing  over  at  the  western  point  again  caught 
his  eye.  After  a  moment's  scrutiny  he  rose 
and  limped  toward  it,  following  the  concave 
of  the  beach,  and  often  pausing  to  rest  and 
bathe  his  head.  It  was  a  long  journey  for 
him,  and  the  tide,  at  half-ebb  when  he  started, 
was  rising  again  when  he  came  abreast  of  the 
object  and  sat  down  to  look  at  it.  It  was  of 
metal,  long  and  round,  rolling  nearly  sub 
merged,  and  held  by  the  alternate  surf  and 
undertow  parallel  with  the  beach,  about 
twenty  feet  out. 

He  waded  in,  grasped  it  by  a  T-shaped 
projection  in  the  middle,  and  headed  it  toward 
the  shore.  Then  he  launched  it  forward  with 
all  his  strength  —  not  much,  but  enough  to 
lift  a  bluntly  pointed  end  out  of  water  as  it 


BETWEEN   THE  MILLSTONES  181 

grounded  and  exposed  a  small,  four-bladed 
steel  wheel,  shaped  something  like  a  wind 
mill.  He  examined  this,  but  could  not  under 
stand  it,  as  it  whirled  freely  either  way  and 
seemed  to  have  no  internal  connection.  The 
strange  cylinder  was  about  sixteen  feet  long 
and  about  eighteen  inches  in  diameter. 

"Boat  o' some  kind,"  he  muttered;  "but 
what  kind  ?  That  screw  's  too  small  to  make 
it  go.  Let 's  see  the  other  end." 

He  launched  it  with  difficulty,  and  noticed 
that  when  floating  end  on  to  the  surf  it  ceased 
to  roll  and  kept  the  T-shaped  projection  upper 
most,  proving  that  it  was  ballasted.  Swing 
ing  it,  he  grounded  the  other  end,  which  was 
radically  different  in  appearance.  It  was 
long  and  finely  pointed,  with  four  steel  blades 
or  vanes,  two  horizontal  and  two  vertical, — 
like  the  double  tails  of  an  ideal  fish, —  and  in 
hollowed  parts  of  these  vanes  were  hung  a 
pair  of  unmistakable  propellers,  one  behind 
the  other,  and  of  opposite  pitch  and  motion. 

"One  works  on  the  shaft,  t'  other  on  a 
sleeve,"  he  mused,  as  he  turned  them.  "  A 
roundhouse  wiper  could  see  that.  Bevel- 
gearin'  inside,  I  guess.  It  's  a  boat,  sure 
enough,  and  this  reverse  action  must  be  to 
keep  her  from  rolling." 

On  each  of  the  four  vanes  he  found  a  small 
blade,  showing  by  its  connection  that  it  pos 
sessed  range  of  action,  yet  immovable  as  the 
vane  itself,  as  though  held  firmly  by  inner 


1 82  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

leverage.  Those  on  the  horizontal  vanes 
were  tilted  upward.  Just  abaft  the  T-shaped 
projection  —  which,  fastened  firmly  to  the  hull, 
told  him  nothing  of  its  purpose  —  were  nu 
merous  brass  posts  buried  flush  with  the  sur 
face,  in  each  of  which  was  a  square  hole,  as 
though  intended  to  be  turned  with  a  key  or 
crank.  Some  were  marked  with  radiating 
lines  and  numbers,  and  they  evidently  con 
trolled  the  inner  mechanism,  part  of  which  he 
could  see — little  brass  cog-wheels,  worms,  and 
levers — through  a  fore-and-aft  slot  near  the 
keyholes. 

Rising  from  the  forward  end  of  this  slot, 
and  lying  close  to  the  metal  hull  in  front  of 
it,  was  a  strong  lever  of  brass,  L-shaped,  con 
nected  internally,  and  indicating  to  his  trained 
mechanical  mind  that  its  only  sphere  of  action 
was  to  lift  up  and  sink  back  into  the  slot.  He 
fingered  it,  but  did  not  yet  try  to  move  it.  A 
little  to  the  left  of  this  lever  was  a  small  blade 
of  steel,  curved  to  fit  the  convex  hull, —  which 
it  hugged  closely, —  and  hinged  at  its  forward 
edge.  This,  too,  must  have  a  purpose, —  an 
internal  connection, — and  he  did  not  disturb 
it  until  he  had  learned  more. 

To  the  right  of  the  brass  lever  was  an  ob 
long  hatch  about  eight  inches  long,  flush  with 
the  hull,  and  held  in  place  by  screws.  Three 
seams,  with  lines  of  screws,  encircled  the  round 
hull,  showing  that  it  was  constructed  in  four 
sections ;  and  these  screws,  with  those  in  the 


BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES  183 

hatch,  were  strong  and  numerous  —  placed 
there  to  stay. 

Fatigued  from  his  exertion,  he  moistened 
his  hair,  sat  down,  and  watched  the  incoming 
tide  swing  the  craft  round  parallel  with  the 
beach.  As  the  submerged  bow  raised  to  a 
level  with  the  stern,  he  noticed  that  the  small 
blades  on  the  horizontal  vanes  dropped  from 
their  upward  slant  to  a  straight  line  with  the 
vanes. 

"  Rudders,"  he  said,  "  horizontal  rudders. 
Can't  be  anything  else."  With  his  chin  in  his 
hand  and  his  wrinkled  brow  creased  with 
deeper  corrugations,  he  put  his  mind  through 
a  process  of  inductive  reasoning. 

"  Horizontal  rudders,"  he  mused,  "  must  be 
to  keep  her  from  diving,  or  to  make  her  dive. 
They  work  automatically,  and  I  s'pose  the 
vertical  rudders  are  the  same.  There  's  no 
thing  outside  to  turn  'em  with.  That  boat 
is  n't  made  to  ride  in, —  no  way  to  get  into 
her, —  and  she  is  n't  big  enough,  anyhow. 
And  as  you  can't  get  into  her,  that  brass  lever 
must  be  what  starts  and  stops  hen  Wonder 
what  the  steel  blade  's  for.  'T  is  n't  a  handy 
shape  for  a  lever, —  to  be  handled  with  fin 
gers, —  too  sharp  ;  but  it  has  work  to  do,  or 
it  would  n't  be  there.  That  section  o'  railroad 
iron  on  top  must  be  to  hang  the  boat  by, —  a 
traveler, —  when  she  's  out  o'  water. 

"  And  the  fan-wheel  on  the  nose  —  what  's 
that  for  ?  If  it 's  a  speed  or  distance  indicator, 


184  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

the  dial  's  inside,  out  o'  sight.  There  's  no 
exhaust,  so  the  motive  power  can't  be  steam. 
Clockwork  or  electricity,  maybe.  Mighty  fine 
workmanship  all  through  !  That  square  door 
is  fitted  in  for  keeps,  and  she  must  ha'  cost  a 
heap.  Now,  as  she  has  horizontal  rudders, 
she  's  intended  to  steer  up  and  down  ;  and  as 
there  's  no  way  to  get  into  her  or  to  stay  on 
her,  and  as  she  can't  be  started  from  the  in 
side  or  steered  from  the  outside,  I  take  it 
she  's  a  model  o'  one  o'  those  submarine 
boats  I  Ve  heard  of —  some  fellow's  inven 
tion  that  's  got  away  from  him.  Guess  I  '11 
try  that  lever  and  see  what  happens.  I  '11 
bury  the  propellers,  though  ;  no  engine  ought 
to  race." 

He  pushed  the  craft  into  deeper  water, 
pointed  it  shoreward,  and  cautiously  lifted  the 
curved  blade  to  a  perpendicular  position,  as 
high  as  it  would  go.  Nothing  happened. 
He  lowered  it,  raised  it  again, —  it  worked 
very  easily, —  then,  leaving  it  upright,  he 
threw  the  long  brass  lever  back  into  the  slot. 
A  slight  humming  came  from  within,  the  pro 
pellers  revolved  slowly,  and  the  craft  moved 
ahead  until  the  bow  grounded.  Then  he  fol 
lowed  and  lifted  the  lever  out  of  the  slot  to  its 
first  position,  shutting  off  the  power. 

Delighted  with  his  success,  he  backed  it 
out  farther  than  before  and  again  threw  back 
the  brass  lever,  this  time  with  the  curved 
blade  down  flat  on  the  hull.  With  the  sink- 


BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES  185 

ing  of  the  lever  into  the  slot  the  mechanism 
within  gave  forth  a  rushing  sound,  the  propel 
lers  at  the  stern  threw  up  a  mound  of  foam, 
and  the  craft  shot  past  him,  dived  until  it 
glanced  on  the  sandy  bottom,  then  slid  a 
third  of  its  length  out  of  water  on  the  beach 
and  stopped,  the  propellers  still  churning, 
and  the  small  wheel  on  the  nose  still  spinning 
with  the  motion  given  it  by  the  water. 

"  Air-pressure !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  shut 
it  off.  He  had  seen  a  line  of  bubbles  rise  as 
the  thing  dived.  "  An  air-engine,  and  the 
whole  thing  must  be  full  o'  compressed  air. 
The  brass  lever  turns  it  on,  and  if  the  steel 
blade  's  up  it  gives  it  the  slow  motion  ;  if  it  's 
down,  she  gets  full  speed  at  once.  Now  I 
know  why  it  's  blade-shaped.  It  's  so  the 
water  itself  can  push  it  down  —  after  she 
starts." 

He  did  not  try  to  launch  it ;  he  waited 
until  the  tide  floated  it,  then  pushed  it  along 
the  beach  toward  his  store  of  food,  arriving  at 
high  water  too  exhausted  to  do  more  that  day 
than  ground  his  capture  and  break  hard  bread. 
And  as  the  afternoon  drew  to  a  close  the  fa 
tigue  in  his  limbs  became  racking  pain  ;  either 
as  a  result  of  his  exposure,  or  as  a  later  symp 
tom  of  the  fever,  he  was  now  in  the  clutch  of 
a  new  enemy  —  rheumatism. 

Then,  with  the  coming  of  night  came  a  re 
turn  of  his  first  violent  symptoms  ;  he  was 
hot,  shivery,  and  feverish  by  turns,  with  dry 


186  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

tongue  and  throat,  and  a  splitting  headache ; 
but  in  this  condition  he  could  still  take  cogni 
zance  of  a  black,  ram-bowed  gunboat,  which 
stole  into  the  bay  from  the  east  and  dropped 
anchor  near  the  buoys. 

A  half-moon  shone  in  the  western  sky, 
and  by  its  light  the  steamer  presented  an 
unkempt,  broken  appearance,  even  to  the 
untrained  eye  of  this  castaway.  Her  after- 
funnel  was  but  half  as  high  as  the  other; 
there  were  gaps  in  her  iron  rail,  and  vacancies 
below  the  twisted  davits  where  boats  should 
be;  and  her  pilot-house  was  wrecked  —  the 
starboard  door  and  nearest  window  merged 
in  a  large,  ragged  hole. 

Officers  on  the  bridge  gave  orders  in  for 
eign  speech,  in  tones  which  came  shoreward 
faintly.  Men  sprang  overboard  with  ropes, 
which  they  fastened  to  the  buoys  ;  then  they 
swam  back,  and  for  an  hour  or  two  the  whole 
crew  was  busy  getting  the  boats  to  the  davits 
and  the  end  of  the  cable  into  the  hawse- 
pipe. 

The  man  on  the  beach  recognized  the  craft 
he  had  seen  when  he  wakened. 

He  felt  that  she  must  in  some  way  be  con 
nected  with  his  being  there,  and  he  waited, 
expecting  to  see  a  boat  put  off;  but  when 
both  boats  were  hoisted  and  he  heard  the 
humming  of  a  steam-windlass,  he  gave  up 
this  expectation  and  tried  to  hail. 

His   voice  could  not  rise  above  a  hoarse 


BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES  187 

whisper.  The  anchor  was  fished,  and  after 
an  interval  he  heard  the  windlass  again,  heav 
ing  in  the  other  chain.  They  were  going 
away  —  going  to  leave  him  there  to  die. 

He  crawled  and  stumbled  down  to  the  wa 
ter's  edge.  The  tide  was  up  again,  rippling 
around  the  strange  thing  he  had  resolved  to 
navigate.  It  was  not  a  boat,  but  it  would  go 
ahead,  and  it  would  float  —  it  would  possibly 
float  him. 

With  strength  born  of  desperation  and  fear, 
he  pushed  it,  inch  by  inch,  into  the  water 
until  it  was  clear  of  the  sand,  and  tried  the 
engine  on  the  slow  motion.  The  propellers 
turned  and  satisfied  him.  He  shut  off  the 
power,  swung  the  thing  round  until  it  pointed 
toward  the  steamer,  and  seated  himself  astride 
of  it,  just  abaft  the  T-shaped  projection  in  the 
middle.  The  long  cylinder  sank  with  him, 
and  when  it  had  steadied  to  a  balance  be 
tween  his  weight  and  its  buoyancy  he  found 
that  it  bore  him,  shoulders  out ;  and  the  posi 
tion  he  had  taken  —  within  reach  of  the  levers 
behind  him  — lifted  the  blunt  nose  higher  than 
the  stern,  but  not  out  of  water.  This  was 
practicable. 

He  reached  behind,  raised  the  blade  lever, 
threw  back  the  large  brass  lever,  and  the  craft 
went  ahead,  at  about  the  speed  of  a  healthy 
man's  walk.  He  kept  his  left  hand  on  the 
blade  lever  to  hold  it  up,  and  by  skilful  pad 
dling  with  his  right  maintained  his  balance 


i88  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

and  assisted  his  legs  in  steering.  He  had 
never  learned  to  swim,  but  he  felt  less  fear  of 
drowning  than  of  slow  death  on  the  island. 

In  five  minutes  he  was  near  enough  to  the 
steamer  to  read  her  name.  He  pulled  the 
starting-lever  forward,  stopping  his  headway  ; 
for  he  must  be  sure  of  his  welcome. 

"  Say,  boss,"  he  called  faintly  and  hoarsely, 
"take  me  along,  can't  you?  Or  else  gi'  me 
some  medicine.  I  'm  blamed  sick  —  I  '11  die 
if  I  stay  here." 

The  noise  of  the  windlass  and  chain  pre 
vented  this  being  heard,  but  at  last,  after  re 
peated  calls  on  his  part,  a  Spanish  howl  went 
up  from  amidships,  and  a  sailor  sprang  from 
one  of  the  boats  to  the  deck,  crossed  himself, 
and  pointing  to  the  man  in  the  water,  ran 
forward. 

"  Madre  de  Dios  !  "  he  yelled.  "  El  apare- 
cido  del  muerto." 

Work  stopped,  and  a  call  down  a  hatchway 
stopped  the  windlass.  In  ports  and  dead 
lights  appeared  faces ;  and  those  on  deck, 
officers  and  men,  crowded  to  the  rail,  some 
to  cross  themselves,  some  to  sink  on  their 
knees,  others  to  grip  the  rail  tightly,  while 
they  stared  in  silence  at  the  torso  and  livid 
face  in  the  moonlight  on  the  sea  — the  ghastly 
face  of  the  man  they  had  marooned  to  die 
alone,  who  had  been  seen  later  dead  on  the 
beach. 

"  Take  me  with    you,    boss,"  he   pleaded 


BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES  189 

with  his  weak  voice.  "I  'm  sick;  I  can't 
hold  on  much  longer." 

It  was  not  the  dead  man's  body  washed  out 
from  the  beach,  for  it  moved,  it  spoke.  And 
it  was  not  a  living  man  ;  no  man  may  recover 
from  advanced  yellow  fever,  and  this  man  had 
been  found  afterward,  dead  —  cold  and  still. 
And  no  living  man  may  swim  in  this  man 
ner  —  high  out  of  water,  patting  and  splash 
ing  with  one  hand.  It  was  a  ghost.  It  had 
come  to  punish  them. 

"  For  que  nos  atormentan  asi,  hombre, 
deja  ? "  cried  a  white-faced  officer. 

"  Can't  you  hear  me?"  asked  the  appari 
tion.  "  I  '11  come  closer." 

He  threw  back  the  starting-lever,  and  the 
thing  began  moving.  Then  a  rifle-barrel 
protruded  from  a  dead-light.  There  was  a 
report  and  a  flash,  and  a  bullet  passed 
through  his  hair.  The  shock  startled  him, 
and  he  lost  his  balance.  In  the  effort  to 
recover  it  his  leg  knocked  down  the  blade 
lever,  and  the  steel  cylinder  sprang  forward, 
leaving  him  floundering  in  the  water. 
Pointed  upward,  it  appeared  for  a  moment  on 
the  surface,  then  dived  like  a  porpoise  and 
disappeared.  In  five  seconds  something 
happened  to  the  gunboat. 

Coincident  with  a  sound  like  near-by  thun 
der,  the  black  craft  lifted  amidships  like  a 
bending  jack-knife,  and  up  from  the  shattered 
deck,  and  out  from  ports,  doors,  and  dead- 


190  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

lights,  came  a  volcano  of  flame  and  smoke. 
The  sea  beneath  followed  in  a  mound,  which 
burst  like  a  great  bubble,  sending  a  cloud  of 
steam  and  spray  and  whitish-yellow  smoke 
aloft  to  mingle  with  the  first  and  meet  the 
falling  fragments.  These  fell  for  several  sec 
onds  —  hatches,  gratings,  buckets,  ladders, 
splinters  of  wood,  parts  of  men,  and  men 
whole,  but  limp. 

A  side-ladder  fell  near  the  choking  and 
half-stunned  sick  man,  and  he  seized  it.  Be 
fore  he  could  crawl  on  top  the  two  halves  of 
the  gunboat  had  sunk  in  a  swirl  of  bubbles 
and  whirlpools. 

A  few  broken  and  bleeding  swimmers  ap 
proached  to  share  his  support,  saw  his  awful 
face  in  the  moonlight,  and  swam  away. 

A  few  hours  later  a  gray  cruiser  loomed  up 
close  by  and  directed  a  search-light  at  him. 
Then  a  gray  cutter  full  of  white-clad  men  ap 
proached  and  took  him  off  the  ladder.  He 
was  delirious  again,  and  bleeding  from  mouth, 
nose,  and  ears. 

THE  surgeon  and  the  torpedo-lieutenant 
came  up  from  the  sick-bay,  the  latter  with  en 
thusiasm  on  his  face, —  for  he  was  young, — 
and  joined  a  group  of  officers  on  the  quarter 
deck. 

"  He  '11  pull  through,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
surgeon.  "  He  is  the  man  Mosher  lost  over 
board,  though  he  does  n't  know  anything 


BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES  191 

about  it,  nor  how  he  got  on  that  sand-key. 
I  suppose  the  Destructor  picked  him  up  and 
landed  him.  He  found  bread  and  water,  he 
says.  You  see,  the  first  symptoms  are  simi 
lar  in  Yellow  Jack  and  relapsing  bilious  fever. 
I  don't  wonder  that  Mosher  was  nervous." 

"Then  it  was  the  Destructor f "  asked  an 
ensign,  pulling  out  a  note-book  and  a  pen 
cil.  "  And  Lieutenant  Mosher  was  right, 
after  all  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  this  man  read  her  name  before  she 
blew  up ;  and  a  Spanish  sailor  has  waked  up 
and  confirmed  it.  She  was  the  Destructor, 
just  over,  and  trying  to  get  into  Havana. 
Instead  of  blowing  up  in  Algeciras  Bay,  as 
they  thought,  she  had  left  with  despatches 
for  Havana,  only  to  blow  up  on  the  Florida 
Reef." 

"  The  Destructor,"  said  the  ensign,  as  he 
pocketed  his  note-book  and  pencil,  "  carried 
fifty-five  men.  Don't  we  get  the  bounty  as 
the  nearest  craft  ?  " 

"  Not  much,"  said  the  young  and  enthu 
siastic  torpedo-lieutenant.  "We  were  not 
even  within  signal  distance,  and  came  along 
by  accident.  Listen,  all  of  you.  When  an 
American  war-craft  sinks  or  destroys  a  larger 
enemy,  there  is  a  bounty  due  her  crew  of 
two  hundred  dollars  for  every  man  on  board 
the  enemy.  That  is  law,  is  n't  it  ?  "  They 
nodded.  "  If  a  submarine  boat  can  be  a  war- 
craft,  so  may  a  Whitehead  torpedo,  and  cer- 


I92  BETWEEN   THE   MILLSTONES 

tainly  is  one,  being  built  for  war.  A  war- 
craft  abandoned  is  a  derelict,  and  the  man 
who  finds  her  becomes  her  lawful  commander 
for  the  time.  If  he  belongs  to  the  navy  his 
position  is  strengthened,  and  if  he  is  alone  he 
is  not  only  commander,  but  the  whole  crew, 
and  consequently  he  is  entitled  to  all  the 
bounty  she  may  earn.  That  is  law. 

"  Now,  listen  hard.  Lieutenant  Mosher 
sent  one  torpedo  at  the  gunboat ;  it  missed 
and  became  derelict,  while  Mosher  escaped 
under  one  boiler.  This  man  found  the  dere 
lict  adrift,  puzzled  out  the  action,  waited  until 
the  gunboat  came  back  for  her  anchor,  then 
straddled  his  craft,  and  rode  out  with  the  wa 
ter-tripper  up.  They  shot  at  him.  He  turned 
his  dog  loose  and  destroyed  the  enemy.  If 
the  Destructor  carried  fifty-five  men  he  is 
entitled  to  eleven  thousand  dollars,  and  the 
government  must  pay,  for  that  is  law." 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE 
MONSTERS 


T^XTRACT  from  hospital  record  of  the  case 
•Crf  of  John  Anderson,  patient  of  Dr.  Brown, 
Ward  3,  Room  6 : 

August  3.  Arrived  at  hospital  in  extreme  mental  dis 
tress,  having  been  bitten  on  wrist  three  hours  previously 
by  dog  known  to  have  been  rabid.  Large,  strong  man, 
full-blooded  and  well  nourished.  Sanguine  temperament. 
Pulse  and  temperature  higher  than  normal,  due  to  excite 
ment.  Cauterized  wound  at  once  (2  p.  M.)  and  inoculated 
with  antitoxin. 

As  patient  admits  having  recently  escaped,  by  swim 
ming  ashore,  from  lately  arrived  cholera  ship,  now  at 
quarantine,  he  has  been  isolated  and  clothing  disinfected. 
Watch  for  symptoms  of  cholera. 

August  3,  6  P.  M.  Microscopic  examination  of  blood 
corroborative  of  Metschnikoffs  theory  of  fighting  leuco 
cytes.  White  corpuscles  gorged  with  bacteria. 


He  was  an  amphibian,  and,  as  such,  unde 
niably  beautiful ;  for  the  sunlight,  refracted 
and  diffused  in  the  water,  gave  his  translucent, 
pearl-blue  body  all  the  shifting  colors  of  the 

spectrum.     Vigorous  and  graceful  of  move- 
is  i93 


194    THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS 

ment,  in  shape  he  resembled  a  comma  of  three 
dimensions,  twisted,  when  at  rest,  to  a  slight 
spiral  curve ;  but  in  traveling  he  straightened 
out  with  quick  successive  jerks,  each  one 
sending  him  ahead  a  couple  of  lengths.  Sup 
plemented  by  the  undulatory  movement  of  a 
long  continuation  of  his  tail,  it  was  his  way 
of  swimming,  good  enough  to  enable  him  to 
escape  his  enemies ;  this,  and  riding  at  an 
chor  in  a  current  by  his  cable-like  appendage, 
constituting  his  main  occupation  in  life.  The 
pleasure  of  eating  was  denied  him ;  nature 
had  given  him  a  mouth,  but  he  used  it  only 
for  purposes  of  offense  and  defense,  absorb 
ing  his  food  in  a  most  unheard-of  manner  — 
through  the  soft  walls  of  his  body. 

Yet  he  enjoyed  a  few  social  pleasures. 
Though  the  organs  of  the  five  senses  were 
missing  in  his  economy,  he  possessed  an  inner 
sixth  sense  which  answered  for  all  and  also 
gave  him  power  of  speech.  He  would  con 
verse,  swap  news  and  views,  with  creatures 
of  his  own  and  other  species,  provided  that 
they  were  of  equal  size  and  prowess ;  but  he 
wasted  no  time  on  any  but  his  social  peers. 
Smaller  creatures  he  pursued  when  they  an 
noyed  him  ;  larger  ones  pursued  him. 

The  sunlight,  which  made  him  so  beautiful 
to  look  at,  was  distasteful  to  him  ;  it  also  made 
him  too  visible.  He  preferred  a  half-darkness 
and  less  fervor  to  life's  battle  —  time  to  judge 
of  chances,  to  figure  on  an  enemy's  speed  and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS    195 

turning-circle,  before  beginning  flight  or  pur 
suit.  But  his  dislike  of  it  really  came  of  a 
stronger  animus  —  a  shuddering  recollection 
of  three  hours  once  passed  on  dry  land  in  a 
comatose  condition,  which  had  followed  a  par 
ticularly  long  and  intense  period  of  bright 
sunlight.  He  had  never  been  able  to  explain 
the  connection,  but  the  awful  memory  still 
saddened  his  life. 

And  now  it  seemed,  as  he  swam  about,  that 
this  experience  might  be  repeated.  The  light 
was  strong  and  long-continued,  the  water 
uncomfortably  warm,  and  the  crowd  about 
him  denser  —  so  much  so  as  to  prevent  him 
from  attending  properly  to  a  social  inferior 
who  had  crossed  his  bow.  But  just  as  his 
mind  grasped  the  full  imminence  of  the  danger, 
there  came  a  sudden  darkness,  a  crash  and 
vibration  of  the  water,  then  a  terrible,  rattling 
roar  of  sound.  The  social  inferior  slipped 
from  his  mouth,  and  with  his  crowding  neigh 
bors  was  washed  far  away,  while  he  felt  him 
self  slipping  along,  bounding  and  rebounding 
against  the  projections  of  a  corrugated  wall 
which  showed  white  in  the  gloom.  There 
was  an  unpleasant  taste  to  the  water,  and  he 
became  aware  of  creatures  in  his  vicinity  un 
like  any  he  had  known, —  quickly  darting 
little  monsters  about  a  tenth  as  large  as  him 
self, —  thousands  of  them,  black  and  horrid  to 
see,  each  with  short,  fish-like  body  and  square 
head  like  that  of  a  dog ;  with  wicked  mouth 


196    THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS 

that  opened  and  shut  nervously  ;  with  hooked 
flippers  on  the  middle  part,  and  a  bunch  of 
tentacles  on  the  fore  that  spread  out  ahead 
and  around.  A  dozen  of  them  surrounded 
him  menacingly ;  but  he  was  young  and 
strong,  much  larger  than  they,  and  a  little 
frightened.  A  blow  of  his  tail  killed  two,  and 
the  rest  drew  off. 

The  current  bore  them  on  until  the  white 
wall  rounded  off  and  was  lost  to  sight  beyond 
the  mass  of  darting  creatures.  Here  was 
slack  water,  and  with  desperate  effort  he  swam 
back,  pushing  the  small  enemies  out  of  his 
path,  meeting  some  resistance  and  receiving 
a  few  bites,  until,  in  a  hollow  in  the  wall,  he 
found  temporary  refuge  and  time  to  think. 
But  he  could  not  solve  the  problem.  He  had 
not  the  slightest  idea  where  he  was  or  what 
had  happened  —  who  and  what  were  the 
strange  black  creatures,  or  why  they  had 
threatened  him. 

His  thoughts  were  interrupted.  Another 
vibrant  roar  sounded,  and  there  was  pitch- 
black  darkness ;  then  he  was  pushed  and 
washed  away  from  his  shelter,  jostled, 
bumped,  and  squeezed,  until  he  found  himself 
in  a  dimly  lighted  tunnel,  which,  crowded  as 
it  was  with  swimmers,  was  narrow  enough  to 
enable  him  to  see  both  sides  at  once.  The 
walls  were  dark  brown  and  blue,  broken  up 
everywhere  into  depressions  or  caves,  some 
of  them  so  deep  as  to  be  almost  like  blind 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS    197 

tunnels.  The  dog-faced  creatures  were  there 
—  as  far  as  he  could  see ;  but  besides  them, 
now,  were  others,  of  stranger  shape  —  of 
species  unknown  to  him. 

A  slow  current  carried  them  on,  and  soon 
they  entered  a  larger  tunnel.  He  swam  to 
the  opposite  wall,  gripped  a  projection,  and 
watched  in  wonder  and  awe  the  procession 
gliding  by.  He  soon  noticed  the  source  of 
the  dim  light.  A  small  creature  with  barrel- 
like  body  and  innumerable  legs  or  tentacles, 
wavering  and  reaching,  floated  past.  Its  body 
swelled  and  shrank  alternately,  with  every 
swelling  giving  out  a  phosphorescent  glow, 
with  every  contraction  darkening  to  a  faint 
red  color.  Then  came  a  group  of  others  ;  then 
a  second  living  lamp  ;  later  another  and  an 
other  :  they  were  evenly  distributed,  and  illu 
mined  the  tunnel. 

There  were  monstrous  shapes,  living  but 
inert,  barely  pulsing  with  dormant  life,  as 
much  larger  than  himself  as  the  dog-headed 
kind  were  smaller  —  huge,  unwieldy,  disk- 
shaped  masses  of  tissue,  light  gray  at  the 
margins,  dark  red  in  the  middle.  They  were 
in  the  majority,  and  blocked  the  view.  Dart 
ing  and  wriggling  between  and  about  them 
were  horrible  forms,  some  larger  than  him 
self,  others  smaller.  There  were  serpents, 
who  swam  with  a  serpent's  motion.  Some 
were  serpents  in  form,  but  were  curled  rigidly 
into  living  corkscrews,  and  by  sculling  with 


198          THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   MONSTERS 

their  tails  screwed  their  way  through  the 
water  with  surprising  rapidity.  Others  were 
barrel-  or  globe-shaped,  with  swarming  tenta 
cles.  With  these  they  pulled  themselves 
along,  in  and  out  through  the  crowd,  or, 
bringing  their  squirming  appendages  rear 
ward, — each  an  individual  snake, — used  them 
as  propellers,  and  swam.  There  were  crea 
tures  in  the  form  of  long  cylinders,  some  with 
tentacles  by  which  they  rolled  along  like  a  log 
in  a  tideway  ;  others,  without  appendages, 
were  as  inert  and  helpless  as  the  huge  red- 
and-gray  disks.  He  saw  four  ball-shaped 
creatures  float  by,  clinging  together ;  then  a 
group  of  eight,  then  one  of  twelve.  All  these, 
to  the  extent  of  their  volition,  seemed  to  be 
in  a  state  of  extreme  agitation  and  excite 
ment. 

The  cause  was  apparent.  The  tunnel  from 
which  he  had  come  was  still  discharging  the 
dog-faced  animals  by  the  thousand,  and  he 
knew  now  the  business  they  were  on.  It  was 
war  —  war  to  the  death.  They  flung  them 
selves  with  furious  energy  into  the  parade, 
fighting  and  biting  all  they  could  reach.  A 
hundred  at  a  time  would  pounce  on  one  of 
the  large  red-and-gray  creatures,  almost  hid 
ing  it  from  view  ;  then,  and  before  they  had 
passed  out  of  sight,  they  would  fall  off  and 
disperse,  and  the  once  living  victim  would 
come  with  them,  in  parts.  The  smaller,  ac 
tive  swimmers  fled,  but  if  one  was  caught,  he 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS    199 

suffered ;  a  quick  dart,  a  tangle  of  tentacles, 
an  embrace  of  the  wicked  flippers,  a  bite  — 
and  a  dead  body  floated  on. 

And  now  into  the  battle  came  a  ponderous 
engine  of  vengeance  and  defense.  A  gi 
gantic,  lumbering,  pulsating  creature,  white 
and  translucent  but  for  the  dark,  active  brain 
showing  through  its  walls,  horrible  in  the 
slow,  implacable  deliberation  of  its  move 
ments,  floated  down  with  the  current.  It  was 
larger  than  the  huge  red-and-gray  creatures. 
It  was  formless,  in  the  full  irony  of  the  defini 
tion —  for  it  assumed  all  forms.  It  was  long 
—  barrel-shaped  ;  it  shrank  to  a  sphere,  then 
broadened  laterally,  and  again  extended  above 
and  below.  In  turn  it  was  a  sphere,  a  disk, 
a  pyramid,  a  pentahedron,  a  polyhedron.  It 
possessed  neither  legs,  flippers,  nor  tentacles ; 
but  out  from  its  heaving,  shrinking  body 
it  would  send,  now  from  one  spot,  now  from 
another,  an  active  arm,  or  feeler,  with  which 
it  swam,  pulled,  or  pushed.  An  unlucky  in 
vader  which  one  of  them  touched  made  few 
more  voluntary  movements ;  for  instantly  the 
whole  side  of  the  whitish  mass  bristled  with 
arms.  They  seized,  crushed,  killed  it,  and 
then  pushed  it  bodily  through  the  living  walls 
to  the  animal's  interior  to  serve  for  food.  And 
the  gaping  fissure  healed  at  once,  like  the 
wounds  of  Milton's  warring  angels. 

The  first  white  monster  floated  down,  kill 
ing  as  he  went ;  then  came  another,  pushing 


200    THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS 

eagerly  into  the  fray ;  then  came  two,  then 
three,  then  dozens.  It  seemed  that  the  word 
had  been  passed,  and  the  army  of  defense  was 
mustering. 

Sick  with  horror,  he  watched  the  grim  spec 
tacle  from  the  shelter  of  the  projection,  until 
roused  to  an  active  sense  of  danger  to  himself 
—  but  not  from  the  fighters.  He  was  anchored 
by  his  tail,  swinging  easily  in  the  eddy,  and 
now  felt  himself  touched  from  beneath,  again 
from  above.  A  projection  down-stream  was 
extending  outward  and  toward  him.  The  cave 
in  which  he  had  taken  refuge  was  closing  on 
him  like  a  great  mouth — as  though  directed 
by  an  intelligence  behind  the  wall.  With  a 
terrified  flirt  of  his  tail  he  flung  himself  out, 
and  as  he  drifted  down  with  the  combat  the 
walls  of  the  cave  crunched  together.  It  was 
well  for  him  that  he  was  not  there. 

The  current  was  clogged  with  fragments 
of  once  living  creatures,  and  everywhere, 
darting,  dodging,  and  biting,  were  the  fierce 
black  invaders.  But  they  paid  no  present 
attention  to  him  or  to  the  small  tentacled  ani 
mals.  They  killed  the  large,  helpless  red-and- 
gray  kind,  and  were  killed  by  the  larger  white 
monsters,  each  moment  marking  the  death 
and  rending  to  fragments  of  a  victim,  and  the 
horrid  interment  of  fully  half  his  slayers.  The 
tunnel  grew  larger,  as  mouth  after  mouth  of 
tributary  tunnels  was  passed ;  but  as  each 
one  discharged  its  quota  of  swimming  and 


THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   MONSTERS          201 

drifting  creatures,  there  was  no  thinning  of 
the  crowd. 

As  he  drifted  on  with  the  inharmonious 
throng,  he  noticed  what  seemed  the  objec 
tive  of  the  war.  This  was  the  caves  which 
lined  the  tunnel.  Some  were  apparently 
rigid,  others  were  mobile.  A  large  red-and- 
gray  animal  was  pushed  into  the  mouth  of  one 
of  the  latter,  and  the  walls  instantly  closed  ; 
then  they  opened,  and  the  creature  drifted  out, 
limp  and  colorless,  but  alive;  and  with  him 
came  fragments  of  the  wall,  broken  off  by  the 
pressure.  This  happened  again  and  again, 
but  the  large  creature  was  never  quite  killed 
—  merely  squeezed.  The  tentacled  non-com 
batants  and  the  large  white  fighters  seemed  to 
know  the  danger  of  these  tunnel  mouths,  pos 
sibly  from  bitter  experiences,  for  they  avoided 
the  walls  ;  but  the  dog-faced  invaders  sought 
this  death,  and  only  fought  on  their  way  to 
the  caves.  Sometimes  two,  often  four  or 
more,  would  launch  themselves  together  into 
a  hollow,  but  to  no  avail ;  their  united 
strength  could  not  prevent  the  closing  in  of 
the  mechanical  maw,  and  they  were  crushed 
and  flung  out,  to  drift  on  with  other  debris. 

Soon  the  walls  could  not  be  seen  for  the 
pushing,  jostling  crowd,  but  everywhere  the 
terrible,  silent  war  went  on  until  there  came 
a  time  when  fighting  ceased ;  for  each  must 
look  out  for  himself.  They  seemed  to  be  in 
an  immense  cave,  and  the  tide  was  broken 


202     THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS 

into  cross-currents  rushing  violently  to  the 
accompaniment  of  rhythmical  thunder.  They 
were  shaken,  jostled,  pushed  about  and  pushed 
together,  hundreds  of  the  smaller  creatures 
dying  from  the  pressure.  Then  there  was  a 
moment  of  comparative  quiet,  during  which 
fighting  was  resumed,  and  there  could  be 
seen  the  swiftly  flying  walls  of  a  large  tun 
nel.  Next  they  were  rushed  through  a  laby 
rinth  of  small  caves  with  walls  of  curious, 
branching  formation,  sponge-like  and  intri 
cate.  It  required  energetic  effort  to  prevent 
being  caught  in  the  meshes,  and  the  large 
red-and-gray  creatures  were  sadly  torn  and 
crushed,  while  the  white  ones  fought  their  way 
through  by  main  strength.  Again  the  flying 
walls  of  a  tunnel,  again  a  mighty  cave,  and  the 
cross-currents,  and  the  rhythmical  thunder, 
and  now  a  wild  charge  down  an  immense  tun 
nel,  the  wall  of  which  surged  outward  and  in 
ward,  in  unison  with  the  roaring  of  the  thunder. 

The  thunder  died  away  in  the  distance, 
though  the  walls  still  surged  —  even  those  of 
a  smaller  tunnel  which  divided  the  current 
and  received  them.  Down-stream  the  tunnel 
branched  again  and  again,  and  with  the  lessen 
ing  of  the  diameter  was  a  lessening  of  the  cur 
rent's  velocity,  until,  in  a  maze  of  small,  short 
passages,  the  invaders,  content  to  fight  and 
kill  in  the  swifter  tide,  again  attacked  the 
caves. 

But  to  the  never-changing  result:  they  were 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS    203 

crushed,  mangled,  and  cast  out,  the  number 
of  suicides,  in  this  neighborhood,  largely  ex 
ceeding  those  killed  by  the  white  warriors. 
And  yet,  in  spite  of  the  large  mortality  among 
them,  the  attacking  force  was  increasing. 
Where  one  died  two  took  his  place ;  and  the 
reason  was  soon  made  plain  —  they  were  re 
producing.  A  black  fighter,  longer  than  his 
fellows,  a  little  sluggish  of  movement,  as 
though  from  the  restrictive  pressure  of  a 
large,  round  protuberance  in  his  middle, 
which  made  him  resemble  a  snake  which  had 
swallowed  an  egg,  was  caught  by  a  white 
monster  and  instantly  embraced  by  a  multi 
tude  of  feelers.  He  struggled,  bit,  and  broke 
in  two ;  then  the  two  parts  escaped  the  grip 
of  the  astonished  captor,  and  wriggled  away, 
the  protuberance  becoming  the  head  of  the 
rear  portion,  which  immediately  joined  the 
fight,  snapping  and  biting  with  unmistakable 
jaws.  This  phenomenon  was  repeated. 

And  on  went  the  battle.  Illumined  by  the 
living  lamps,  and  watched  by  terrified  non- 
combatants,  the  horrid  carnival  continued 
with  never-slacking  fury  and  ever-changing 
background  —  past  the  mouths  of  tributary 
tunnels  which  increased  the  volume  and  ve 
locity  of  the  current  and  added  to  the  fighting 
strength,  on  through  widening  archways  to  a 
repetition  of  the  cross-currents,  the  thunder, 
and  the  sponge-like  maze,  down  past  the 
heaving  walls  of  larger  tunnels  to  branched 


204    THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS 

passages,  where,  in  comparative  slack  water, 
the  siege  of  the  caves  was  resumed.  For 
hour  after  hour  this  went  on,  the  invaders  dy 
ing  by  hundreds,  but  increasing  by  thousands 
and  ten  thousands,  as  the  geometrical  pro 
gression  advanced,  until,  with  swimming- 
spaces  nearly  choked  by  their  bodies,  living 
and  dead,  there  came  the  inevitable  turn  in  the 
tide  of  battle.  A  white  monster  was  killed. 

Glutted  with  victims,  exhausted  and  slug 
gish,  he  was  pounced  upon  by  hundreds,  hid 
den  from  view  by  a  living  envelop  of  black, 
which  pulsed  and  throbbed  with  his  death- 
throes.  A  feeler  reached  out,  to  be  bitten  off; 
then  another,  to  no  avail.  His  strength  was 
gone,  and  the  assailants  bit  and  burrowed 
until  they  reached  a  vital  part,  when  the  great 
mass  assumed  a  spherical  form  and  throbbed 
no  more.  They  dropped  off,  and,  as  the 
mangled  ball  floated  on,  charged  on  the  next 
enemy  with  renewed  fury  and  courage  born 
of  their  victory.  This  one  died  as  quickly. 

And  as  though  it  had  been  foreseen,  and  a 
policy  arranged  to  meet  it,  the  white  army  no 
longer  fought  in  the  open,  but  lined  up  along 
the  walls  to  defend  the  immovable  caves. 
They  avoided  the  working  jaws  of  the  other 
kind,  which  certainly  needed  no  garrison, 
and  drifting  slowly  in  the  eddies,  fought  as 
they  could,  with  decreasing  strength  and  in 
creasing  death-rate.  And  thus  it  happened 
that  our  conservative  non-combatant,  out  in 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS    205 

midstream,  found  himself  surrounded  by  a 
horde  of  black  enemies  who  had  nothing 
better  to  do  than  attack  him. 

And  they  did.  As  many  as  could  crowd 
about  him  closed  their  wicked  jaws  in  his 
flesh.  Squirming  with  pain,  rendered  trebly 
strong  by  his  terror,  he  killed  them  by  twos 
and  threes  as  he  could  reach  them  with  his 
tail.  He  shook  them  off  with  nervous  con 
tortions,  only  to  make  room  for  more.  He 
plunged,  rolled,  launched  himself  forward  and 
back,  up  and  down,  out  and  in,  bending  him 
self  nearly  double,  then  with  lightning  ra 
pidity  throwing  himself  far  into  the  reverse 
curve.  He  was  fighting  for  his  life,  and  knew 
it.  When  he  could,  he  used  his  jaws,  only 
once  to  an  enemy.  He  saw  dimly  at  inter 
vals  that  the  white  monsters  were  watching 
him ;  but  none  offered  to  help,  and  he  had 
not  time  to  call. 

He  thought  that  he  must  have  become  the 
object  of  the  war ;  for  from  all  sides  they 
swarmed,  crowding  about  him,  seeking  a  place 
on  which  to  fasten  their  jaws.  Little  by  little 
the  large  red-and-gray  creatures,  the  non- 
combatants,  and  the  phosphorescent  animals 
were  pushed  aside,  and  he,  the  center  of  an 
almost  solid  black  mass,  fought,  in  utter  dark 
ness,  with  the  fury  of  extreme  fright.  He  had 
no  appreciation  of  the  passing  of  time,  no 
knowledge  of  his  distance  from  the  wall,  or 
the  destination  of  this  never-pausing  current. 


206          THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   MONSTERS 

But  finally,  after  an  apparently  interminable 
period,  he  heard  dimly,  with  failing  conscious 
ness,  the  reverberations  of  the  thunder,  and 
knew  momentary  respite  as  the  violent  cross 
currents  tore  his  assailants  away.  Then,  still 
in  darkness,  he  felt  the  crashing  and  tearing 
of  flesh  against  obstructing  walls  and  sharp 
corners,  the  repetition  of  thunder  and  the  roar 
of  the  current  which  told  him  he  was  once  more 
in  a  large  tunnel.  An  instant  of  light  from  a 
venturesome  torch  showed  him  to  his  enemies, 
and  again  he  fought,  like  a  whale  in  his  last 
flurry,  slowly  dying  from  exhaustion  and 
pain,  but  still  potential  to  kill  —  terrible  in  his 
agony.  There  was  no  counting  of  scalps  in 
that  day's  work ;  but  perhaps  no  devouring 
white  monster  in  all  the  defensive  army  could 
have  shown  a  death-list  equal  to  this.  From 
the  surging  black  cloud  there  was  a  steady 
outflow  of  the  dead,  pushed  back  by  the 
living. 

Weaker  and  weaker,  while  they  mangled 
his  flesh,  and  still  in  darkness,  he  fought  them 
down  through  branching  passages  to  another 
network  of  small  tunnels,  where  he  caught  a 
momentary  view  of  the  walls  and  the  stolid 
white  guard,  thence  on  to  what  he  knew  was 
open  space.  And  here  he  felt  that  he  could 
fight  no  more.  They  had  covered  him  com 
pletely,  and,  try  as  he  might  with  his  failing 
strength,  he  could  not  dislodge  them.  So  he 
ceased  his  struggles ;  and  numb  with  pain, 
dazed  with  despair,  he  awaited  the  end. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS    207 

But  it  did  not  come.  He  was  too  exhausted 
to  feel  surprise  or  joy  when  they  suddenly 
dropped  away  from  him ;  but  the  instinct  of 
self-preservation  was  still  in  force,  and  he 
swam  toward  the  wall.  The  small  creatures 
paid  him  no  attention  ;  they  scurried  this  way 
and  that,  busy  with  troubles  of  their  own,  while 
he  crept  stupidly  and  painfully  between  two 
white  sentries  floating  in  the  eddies, —  one  of 
whom  considerately  made  room  for  him, —  and 
anchored  to  a  projection,  luckily  choosing  a 
harbor  that  was  not  hostile. 

"Any  port  in  a  storm,  eh,  neighbor?"  said 
the  one  who  had  given  him  room,  and  who 
seemed  to  notice  his  dazed  condition.  "  You  '11 
feel  better  soon.  My,  but  you  put  up  a  good 
fight,  that  's  what  you  did  !  " 

He  could  not  answer,  and  the  friendly  guard 
resumed  his  vigil.  In  a  few  moments,  how 
ever,  he  could  take  cognizance  of  what  was 
going  on  in  the  stream.  There  was  a  new 
army  in  the  fight,  and  reinforcements  were 
still  coming.  A  short  distance  above  him  was 
a  huge  rent  in  the  wall,  and  the  caves  around 
it,  crushed  and  distorted,  were  grinding 
fiercely.  Protruding  through  the  rent  and 
extending  half-way  across  the  tunnel  was  a 
huge  mass  of  some  strange  substance,  roughly 
shaped  to  a  cylindrical  form.  It  was  hollow, 
and  out  of  it,  by  thousands  and  hundred  thou 
sands,  was  pouring  the  auxiliary  army,  from 
which  the  black  fighters  were  now  fleeing  for 
dear  life. 


208    THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS 

The  newcomers,  though  resembling  in  gen 
eral  form  the  creatures  they  pursued,  were 
much  larger  and  of  two  distinct  types.  Both 
were  light  brown  in  color ;  but  while  one 
showed  huge  development  of  head  and  jaw, 
with  small  flippers,  the  other  kind  reversed 
these  attributes,  their  heads  being  small, 
but  their  flippers  long  and  powerful.  They 
ran  their  quarry  down  in  the  open,  and  seized 
them  with  outreaching  tentacles.  No  mis 
takes  were  made  —  no  feints  or  false  motions  ; 
and  there  was  no  resistance  by  the  victims. 
Where  one  was  noticed  he  was  doomed.  The 
tentacles  gathered  him  in  —  to  a  murderous 
bite  or  a  murderous  embrace. 

At  last,  when  the  inflow  had  ceased, —  when 
there  must  have  been  millions  of  the  brown 
killers  in  the  tunnel, —  the  great  hollow  cylin 
der  turned  slowly  on  its  axis  and  backed  out 
through  the  rent  in  the  wall,  which  immedi 
ately  closed,  with  a  crushing  and  scattering 
of  fragments.  Though  the  allies  were  far 
down-stream  now,  the  war  was  practically 
ended ;  for  the  white  defenders  remained 
near  the  walls,  and  the  black  invaders  were 
in  wildest  panic,  each  one,  as  the  resistless 
current  rushed  him  past,  swimming  against 
the  stream,  to  put  distance  between  himself 
and  the  destroyer  below.  But  before  long 
an  advance-guard  of  the  brown  enemy  shot 
out  from  the  tributaries  above,  and  the  tide 
of  retreat  swung  backward.  Then  came 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS    209 

thousands  of  them,  and  the  massacre  was 
resumed. 

"  Hot  stuff,  eh  ?  "  said  his  friendly  neighbor 
to  him. 

«  Y-y-y-es  —  I  guess  so,"  he  answered, 
rather  vacantly ;  "  I  don't  know.  I  don't 
know  anything  about  it.  I  never  saw  such 
doings.  What  is  it  all  for?  What  does  it 
mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  this  is  nothing ;  it  's  all  in  a  lifetime. 
Still,  I  admit  it  might  ha'  been  serious  for  us 
—  and  you,  too  —  if  we  had  n't  got  help." 

"  But  who  are  they,  and  what?  They 
all  seem  of  a  family,  and  are  killing  each 
other." 

"  Immortal  shade  of  Darwin  !  "  exclaimed 
the  other  sentry,  who  had  not  spoken  before. 
" Where  were  you  brought  up?  Don't  you 
know  that  variations  from  type  are  the  dead 
liest  enemies  of  the  parent  stock  ?  These  two 
brown  breeds  are  the  hundredth  or  two-hun 
dredth  cousins  of  the  black  kind.  When 
they  've  killed  off  their  common  relative,  and 
get  to  competing  for  grub,  they  '11  extermi 
nate  each  other,  and  we  '11  be  rid  of  'em  all. 
Law  of  nature.  Understand  ?  " 

"  Oh,  y-yes,  I  understand,  of  course ;  but 
what  did  the  black  kind  attack  me  for  ?  And 
what  do  they  want,  anyway  ?  " 

"To  follow  out  their  destiny,  I  s'pose. 
They  're  the  kind  of  folks  who  have  missions. 
Reformers,  we  call  'em  —  who  want  to  en- 


210    THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MONSTERS 

force  their  peculiar  ideas  and  habits  on  other 
people.  Sometimes  we  call  them  expansion 
ists — fond  of  colonizing  territory  that  does  n't 
belong  to  them.  They  wanted  to  get  through 
the  cells  to  the  lymph-passages,  thence  on  to 
the  brain  and  spinal  marrow.  Know  what 
that  means?  Hydrophobia" 

-What's  that?" 

"  Oh,  say,  now  !     You  're  too  easy." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  other,  good-na 
turedly  ;  "  don't  guy  him.  He  never  had 
our  advantages.  You  see,  neighbor,  we  get 
these  points  from  the  subjective  brain,  which 
knows  all  things  and  gives  us  our  instructions. 
We  're  the  white  corpuscles, — phagocytes,  the 
scientists  call  us, —  and  our  work  is  to  police 
the  blood-vessels,  and  kill  off  invaders  that 
make  trouble.  Those  red-and-gray  chumps 
can't  take  care  of  themselves,  and  we  must 
protect  'em.  Understand  ?  But  this  invasion 
was  too  much  for  us,  and  we  had  to  have 
help  from  outside.  You  must  have  come  in 
with  the  first  crowd  —  think  I  saw  you  —  in 
at  the  bite.  Second  crowd  came  in  through 
an  inoculation  tube,  and  just  in  time  to  pull 
you  through." 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  our  bewildered 
friend.  "  In  at  the  bite?  What  bite?  I 
was  swimming  round  comfortable-like,  and 
there  was  a  big  noise,  and  then  I  was  along 
side  of  a  big  white  wall,  and  then — " 

"  Exactly  ;  the  dog's  tooth.     You  got  into 


THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   MONSTERS          211 

bad  company,  friend,  and  you  're  well  out  of  it. 
That  first  gang  is  the  microbe  of  rabies,  not 
very  well  known  yet,  because  a  little  too  small 
to  be  seen  by  most  microscopes.  All  the  scien 
tists  seem  to  have  learned  about  'em  is  that  a 
colony  a  few  hundred  generations  old  —  which 
they  call  a  culture,  or  serum  —  is  death  on  the 
original  bird  ;  and  that  's  what  they  sent  in 
to  help  out.  Pasteur  's  dead,  worse  luck,  but 
sometime  old  Koch  '11  find  out  what  we  Ve 
known  all  along  —  that  it  's  only  variation 
from  type." 

"  Koch!  "  he  answered  eagerly  and  proudly. 
"  Oh,  I  know  Koch ;  I  Ve  met  him.  And  I 
know  about  microscopes,  too.  Why,  Koch 
had  me  under  his  microscope  once.  He  dis 
covered  my  family,  and  named  us  —  the  com 
ma  bacilli —  the  Spirilli  of  Asiatic  Cholera." 

In  silent  horror  they  drew  away  from  him, 
and  then  conversed  together.  Other  white 
warriors  drifting  along  stopped  and  joined  the 
conference,  and  when  a  hundred  or  more 
were  massed  before  him,  they  spread  out  to  a 
semi-spherical  formation  and  closed  in. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked  nervously. 
"  What  's  wrong  ?  What  are  you  going  to 
do  ?  I  have  n't  done  anything,  have  I  ?  " 

"  It  's  not  what  you  Ve  done,  stranger," 
said  his  quondam  friend,  "  or  what  we  're  go 
ing  to  do.  It  's  what  you  're  going  to  do. 
You  're  going  to  die.  Don't  see  how  you  got 
past  quarantine,  anyhow." 


212          THE   BATTLE   OF  THE   MONSTERS 

"  What  —  why  —  I  don't  want  to  die.  I  Ve 
done  nothing.  All  I  want  is  peace  and  quiet, 
and  a  place  to  swim  where  it  is  n't  too  light 
nor  too  dark.  I  mind  my  own  affairs.  Let 
me  alone  —  you  hear  me  —  let  me  alone  !  " 

They  answered  him  not.  Slowly  and  irre 
sistibly  the  hollow  formation  contracted  —  in 
dividuals  slipping  out  when  necessary  —  until 
he  was  pushed,  still  protesting,  into  the  near 
est  movable  cave.  The  walls  crashed  together 
and  his  life  went  out.  When  he  was  cast 
forth  he  was  in  five  pieces. 

And  so  our  gentle,  conservative,  non-com 
bative  cholera  microbe,  who  only  wanted  to 
be  left  alone  to  mind  his  own  affairs,  met  this 
violent  death,  a  martyr  to  prejudice  and  an 
unsympathetic  environment. 


Extract  from  hospital  record  of  the  case  of 
John  Anderson : 

August  1 8.  As  period  of  incubation  for  both  cholera 
and  hydrophobia  has  passed  and  no  initial  symptoms  of 
either  disease  have  been  noticed,  patient  is  this  day  dis 
charged,  cured. 


FROM  THE  ROYAL- YARD 
DOWN 


AS  night  descended,  cold  and  damp,  the 
-Tx  wind  hauled,  and  by  nine  o'clock  the 
ship  was  charging  along  before  a  half-gale 
and  a  rising  sea  from  the  port  quarter.  When 
the  watch  had  braced  the  yards,  the  mate  or 
dered  the  spanker  brailed  in  and  the  mizzen- 
royal  clued  up,  as  the  ship  steered  hard.  This 
was  done,  and  the  men  coiled  up  the  gear. 

"  Let  the  spanker  hang  in  the  brails  ;  tie 
up  the  royal,"  ordered  the  mate  from  his  posi 
tion  at  the  break  of  the  poop. 

' 'Aye,  aye,  sir,"  answered  a  voice  from  the 
group,  and  an  active  figure  sprang  into  the 
rigging.  Another  figure  —  slim  and  graceful, 
clad  in  long  yellow  oilskin  coat,  and  a  sou' 
wester  which  could  not  confine  a  tangled 
fringe  of  wind-blown  hair  —  left  the  shelter  of 
the  after-companionway  and  sped  along  the 
alley  to  the  mate's  side. 

"The  foot-rope,  Mr.  Adams,"  she  said  hur 
riedly.  "The  seizing  was  chafed,  you  re 
member." 

213, 


214  FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD  DOWN 

"  By  George,  Miss  Freda  !  "  said  the  officer. 
"  Forgot  all  about  it.  Glad  you  spoke.  Come 
down  from  aloft,"  he  added  in  a  roar. 

The  sailor  answered  and  descended. 

"  Get  a  piece  of  spun  yarn  out  o'  the  booby- 
hatch  and  take  it  up  wi'  you,"  continued  the 
mate.  "  Pass  a  temporary  seizing  on  the  lee 
royal  foot-rope.  Make  sure  it 's  all  right  Tore 
you  get  on  it,  now." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir." 

The  man  passed  down  the  poop  steps,  se 
cured  the  spun  yarn,  and  while  rolling  it  into 
a  ball  to  put  in  his  pocket,  stood  for  a  moment 
in  the  light  shining  from  the  second  mate's 
room.  The  girl  on  the  poop  looked  down  at 
him.  He  was  a  trim-built,  well-favored  young 
fellow,  with  more  refinement  in  his  face  than 
most  sailors  can  show  ;  yet  there  was  no  lack 
of  seamanly  deftness  in  the  fingers  which 
balled  up  the  spun  yarn  and  threw  a  half- 
hitch  with  the  bight  of  the  lanyard  over  the 
point  of  the  marlinespike  which  hung  to  his 
neck.  As  he  climbed  the  steps,  the  girl 
faced  him,  looking  squarely  into  his  eyes. 

"Be  careful,  John  —  Mr.  Owen,"  she  said. 
''The  seizing  is  chafed  through.  I  heard  the 
man  report  it — it  was  Dutch  George  of  the 
other  watch.  Do  be  careful." 

"Eh,  why — why,  yes,  Miss  Folsom.  Thank 
you.  But  you  startled  me.  I  Ve  been  Jack 
for  three  years  —  not  John,  nor  Mister.  Yes, 
it  's  all  right ;  I  — " 


FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN  215 

"  Get  aloft  to  that  mizzenroyal,"  thundered 
the  mate,  now  near  the  wheel. 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir."  He  touched  his  sou' 
wester  to  the  girl  and  mounted  the  weather 
mizzen-rigging,  running  up  the  ratlines  as  a 
fireman  goes  up  a  ladder.  It  was  a  black 
night  with  cold  rain,  and  having  thrown  off 
his  oiled  jacket,  he  was  already  drenched  to  the 
skin  ;  but  no  environment  of  sunshine,  green 
fields  and  woodland,  and  flower- scented  air 
ever  made  life  brighter  to  him  than  had  the 
incident  of  the  last  few  moments  ;  and  with 
every  nerve  in  his  body  rejoicing  in  his  victory, 
and  her  bitter  words  of  four  years  back  crowd 
ing  his  mind  as  a  contrasting  background,  he 
danced  up  and  over  the  futtock-shrouds,  up  the 
topmast-rigging,  through  the  crosstrees,  and 
up  the  topgallant-rigging  to  where  the  ratlines 
ended  and  he  must  climb  on  the  runner  of  the 
royal-halyards.  As  the  yard  was  lowered,  this 
was  a  short  climb,  and  he  swunghimself  upward 
to  the  weather  yard-arm,  where  he  rolled  up 
one  side  of  the  sail  with  extravagant  waste  of 
muscular  effort ;  for  she  had  said  he  was  not  a 
man,  and  he  had  proved  her  wrong :  he  had 
conquered  himself,  and  he  had  conquered  her. 

He  hitched  the  gasket,  and  crossed  over  to 
the  lee  side,  forgetting,  in  his  exhilaration,  the 
object  of  the  spun  yarn  in  his  pocket  and  the 
marlinespike  hung  from  his  neck,  stepped 
out  on  the  foot-rope,  passed  his  hands  along 
the  jack-stay  to  pull  himself  farther,  and  felt 


216  FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN 

the  foot-rope  sink  to  the  sound  of  snapping 
strands.  The  jackstay  was  torn  from  his 
grasp,  and  he  fell,  face  downward,  into  the 
black  void  beneath. 

An  involuntary  shriek  began  on  his  lips, 
but  was  not  finished.  He  felt  that  the  last 
atom  of  air  was  jarred  from  his  lungs  by  what 
he  knew  was  the  topgallant-yard,  four  feet  be 
low  the  royal  ;  and,  unable  to  hold  on,  with  a 
freezing  cold  in  his  veins  and  at  the  hair-roots, 
he  experienced  in  its  fullness  the  terrible 
sensation  of  falling, —  whirling  downward, — 
clutching  wildly  at  vacancy  with  stiffened 
fingers. 

The  first  horror  past,  his  mind  took  on  a 
strange  contemplativeness ;  fear  of  death  gave 
way  to  mild  curiosity  as  to  the  manner  of  it. 
Would  he  strike  on  the  lee  quarter,  or  would 
he  go  overboard  ?  And  might  he  not  catch 
something  ?  There  was  rigging  below  him — 
the  lee  royal-backstay  stretched  farthest  out 
from  the  mast,  and  if  he  brushed  it,  there  was 
a  possible  chance.  He  was  now  face  upward, 
and  with  the  utmost  difficulty  moved  his 
eyes, —  he  could  not  yet,  by  any  exercise  of 
will  or  muscle,  move  his  head, —  and  there, 
almost  within  reach,  was  a  dark  line,  which 
he  knew  was  the  royal-backstay ;  farther  in 
toward  the  spars  was  another  —  the  topgal 
lant-backstay;  and  within  this,  two  other  ropes 
which  he  knew  for  the  topgallant-rigging, 
though  he  could  see  no  ratlines,  nor  could  he 


FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN  217 

distinguish  the  lay  of  the  strands ;  the  ropes 
appeared  like  solid  bars.  This,  with  the  fact 
that  he  was  still  but  a  few  feet  below  the  top 
gallant-yard,  surprised  him,  until  it  came  to 
him  that  falling  bodies  travel  over  sixteen  feet 
in  the  first  second  of  descent,  which  is  at  a 
rate  too  fast  for  distinct  vision,  and  that  the 
apparent  slowness  of  his  falling  was  but  rela 
tive  —  because  of  the  quickness  of  his  mind, 
which  could  not  wait  on  a  sluggish  optic  nerve 
and  more  sluggish  retina. 

Yet  he  wondered  why  he  could  not  reach 
out  and  grasp  the  backstay.  It  seemed  as 
though  invisible  fetters  bound  every  muscle 
and  joint,  though  not  completely.  An  intense 
effort  of  will  resulted  in  the  slow  extension  of 
all  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand,  and  a  little 
straightening  of  the  arm  toward  the  backstay; 
but  not  until  he  had  fallen  to  the  level  of  the 
upper  topsail-yard  was  this  result  reached. 
It  did  no  good ;  the  backstay  was  now  farther 
away.  As  it  led  in  a  straight  line  from  the 
royal-masthead  to  the  rail,  this  meant  that  he 
would  fall  overboard,  and  the  thought  com 
forted  him.  The  concussion  would  kill  him, 
of  course ;  but  no  self-pity  afflicted  him  now. 
He  merely  considered  that  she,  who  had  re 
lented,  would  be  spared  the  sight  of  him 
crushed  to  a  pulp  on  the  deck. 

As  he  drifted  slowly  down  past  the  expanse 
of  upper  topsail,  he  noticed  that  his  head  was 
sinking  and  his  body  turning  so  that  he 


218  FROM   THE  ROYAL-YARD   DOWN 

would  ultimately  face  forward ;  but  still  his 
arms  and  legs  held  their  extended  position, 
like  those  of  a  speared  frog,  and  the  thought 
recalled  to  him  an  incident  of  his  infancy — a 
frog-hunt  with  an  older  playmate,  his  prow 
ess,  success,  wet  feet,  and  consequent  illness. 
It  had  been  forgotten  for  years,  but  the  chain 
was  started,  and  led  to  other  memories,  long 
dead,  which  rose  before  him.  His  childhood 
passed  in  review,  with  its  pleasures  and  griefs; 
his  school-days,  with  their  sports,  conflicts, 
friends  and  enemies ;  college,  where  he  had 
acquired  the  polish  to  make  him  petted  of 
all  but  one  —  and  abhorrent  to  her.  Almost 
every  person,  man  or  woman,  boy  or  girl, 
with  whom  he  had  conversed  in  his  whole 
life,  came  back  and  repeated  the  scene  ;  and 
as  he  passed  the  lower  topsail-yard,  nearly 
head  downward,  he  was  muttering  common 
places  to  a  brown -faced,  gray-eyed  girl,  who 
listened,  and  looked  him  through  and  through, 
and  seemed  to  be  wondering  why  he  existed. 

And  as  he  traversed  the  depth  of  the  lower 
topsail,  turning  gradually  on  his  axis,  he 
lived  it  over  —  next  to  his  first  voyage,  the 
most  harrowing  period  of  his  life:  the  short 
two  months  during  which  he  had  striven 
vainly  to  impress  this  simple-natured  sailor- 
girl  with  his  good  qualities,  ending  at  last 
with  his  frantic  declaration  of  a  love  that  she 
did  not  want. 

"  But  it  's  not  the  least  use,  John,"  she  said 


FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN  219 

to  him.  "  I  do  not  love  you,  and  I  cannot. 
You  are  a  gentleman,  as  they  say,  and  as 
such  I  like  you  well  enough ;  but  I  never  can 
love  you,  nor  any  one  like  you.  I  Ve  been 
among  men,  real  men,  all  my  life,  and  per 
haps  have  ideals  that  are  strange  to  you. 
John,"  —  her  eyes  were  wide  open  in  earnest 
ness, —  "  you  are  not  a  man." 

Writhing  under  her  words,  which  would 
have  been  brutal  spoken  by  another,  he 
cursed,  not  her,  nor  himself,  but  his  luck  and 
the  fates  that  had  shaped  his  life.  And  next 
she  was  showing  him  the  opened  door,  saying 
that  she  could  tolerate  profanity  in  a  man, 
but  not  in  a  gentleman,  and  that  under  no 
circumstances  was  he  to  claim  her  acquain 
tance  again.  Then  followed  the  snubbing  in 
the  street,  when,  like  a  lately  whipped  dog, 
he  had  placed  himself  in  her  way,  hoping  she 
would  notice  him ;  and  the  long  agony  of 
humiliation  and  despair  as  his  heart  and  soul 
followed  her  over  the  seas  in  her  father's  ship, 
until  the  seed  she  had  planted  —  the  small 
suspicion  that  her  words  were  true  —  devel 
oped  into  a  wholesome  conviction  that  she 
had  measured  him  by  a  higher  standard  than 
any  he  had  known,  and  found  him  wanting. 
So  he  would  go  to  her  school,  and  learn  what 
she  knew. 

With  lightning-like  rapidity  his  mind  re 
hearsed  the  details  of  his  tuition :  the  four 
long  voyages ;  the  brutality  of  the  officers 


220  FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN 

until  he  had  learned  his  work;  their  consider 
ation  and  rough  kindness  when  he  had  be 
come  useful  and  valuable ;  the  curious,  incon 
gruous  feeling  of  self-respect  that  none  but 
able  seamen  feel ;  the  growth  in  him  of  an 
aggressive  physical  courage ;  the  triumphant 
satisfaction  with  which  he  finally  knew  him 
self  as  a  complete  man,  clean  in  morals  and 
mind,  able  to  look  men  in  the  face.  And  then 
came  the  moment  when,  mustering  at  the 
capstan  with  the  new  crew  of  her  father's 
ship,  he  had  met  her  surprised  eyes  with  a 
steady  glance,  and  received  no  recognition. 

And  so  he  pleaded  his  cause,  dumbly,  by  the 
life  that  he  lived.  Asking  nothing  by  word 
or  look,  he  proved  himself  under  her  eyes  — 
first  on  deck ;  first  in  the  rigging ;  the  best 
man  at  a  weather-earing ;  the  best  at  the 
wheel ;  quick,  obedient,  intelligent,  and  re 
spectful,  winning  the  admiration  of  his  mates, 
the  jealous  ill  will  of  the  officers,  but  no  sign 
of  interest  or  approval  from  her  until  to-night 
—  the  ninety-second  day  of  the  passage.  She 
had  surrendered ;  he  had  reached  her  level, 
only  to  die ;  and  he  thought  this  strange. 

Facing  downward,  head  inboard  now,  and 
nearly  horizontal,  he  was  passing  the  cross- 
jack  yard.  Below  him  was  the  sea — black  and 
crisp,  motionless  as  though  carved  in  ebony. 
Neither  was  there  movement  of  the  ship  and 
its  rigging ;  the  hanging  bights  of  ropes  were 
rigid,  while  a  breaking  sea  just  abaft  the  main 


FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN  221 

chains  remained  poised,  curled,  its  white  crest 
a  frozen  pillow  of  foam.  "The  rapidity  of 
thought,"  he  mused  dreamily;  "but  I  'm  fall 
ing  fast  enough  —  fast  enough  to  kill  me  when 
I  strike." 

He  could  not  move  an  eyelid  now,  nor 
was  he  conscious  that  he  breathed ;  but, 
being  nearly  upright,  facing  aft  and  inboard, 
the  quarter-deck  and  its  fittings  were  before 
his  eyes,  and  he  saw  what  brought  him  out  of 
eternity  to  a  moment  of  finite  time  and  emo 
tion.  The  helmsman  stood  at  the  motionless 
wheel  with  his  right  hand  poised  six  inches 
above  a  spoke,  as  though  some  sudden  paral 
ysis  gripped  him,  and  his  face,  illumined  by 
the  binnacle  light,  turned  aloft  inquiringly. 
But  it  was  not  this.  Standing  at  the  taffrail, 
one  hand  on  a  life-buoy,  was  a  girl  in  yellow 
looking  at  him, —  unspeakable  horror  in  the 
look, —  and  around  her  waist  the  arm  of  the 
mate,  on  whose  rather  handsome  face  was  an 
evil  grin. 

A  pang  of  earthly  rage  and  jealousy  shot 
through  him,  and  he  wished  to  live.  By  a  su 
preme  effort  of  will  he  brought  his  legs  close 
together  and  his  arms  straight  above  his  head  ; 
then  the  picture  before  him  shot  upward, 
and  he  was  immersed  in  cold  salt  water,  with 
blackness  all  about  him.  How  long  he  re 
mained  under  he  could  not  guess.  He  had 
struck  feet  first  and  suffered  no  harm,  but  had 
gone  down  like  a  deep-sea  lead.  He  felt  the 


222  FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN 

aching  sensation  in  his  lungs  coming  from 
suppressed  breathing,  and  swam  blindly  in  the 
darkness,  not  knowing  in  which  direction  was 
the  surface,  until  he  felt  the  marlinespike  — 
still  fastened  to  his  neck  —  extending  off  to 
the  right.  Sure  that  it  must  hang  downward, 
he  turned  the  other  way,  and,  keeping  it  par 
allel  with  his  body,  swam  with  bursting  lungs, 
until  he  felt  air  upon  his  face  and  knew  that 
he  could  breathe.  In  choking  sobs  and  gasps 
his  breath  came  and  went,  while  he  paddled 
with  hands  and  feet,  glad  of  his  reprieve  ;  and 
when  his  lungs  worked  normally,  he  struck 
out  for  a  white,  circular  life-buoy,  not  six  feet 
away.  "  Bless  her  for  this,"  he  prayed,  as  he 
slipped  it  under  his  arms.  His  oilskin  trou 
sers  were  cumbersome,  and  with  a  little 
trouble  he  shed  them. 

He  was  alive,  and  his  world  was  again  in 
motion.  Seas  lifted  and  dropped  him,  occa 
sionally  breaking  over  his  head.  In  the  calm 
of  the  hollows,  he  listened  for  voices  of  pos 
sible  rescuers.  On  the  tops  of  the  seas, — ears 
filled  with  the  roar  of  the  gale, — he  shouted, 
facing  to  leeward,  and  searching  with  strained 
eyes  for  sign  of  the  ship  or  one  of  her  boats. 
At  last  he  saw  a  pin-point  of  light  far  away, 
and  around  it  and  above  it  blacker  darkness, 
which  was  faintly  shaped  to  the  outline  of  a 
ship  and  canvas  —  hove  to  in  the  trough,  with 
maintopsail  aback,  as  he  knew  by  its  fore 
shortening.  And  even  as  he  looked  and 


FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD    DOWN  223 

shouted  it  faded  away.  He  screamed  and 
cursed,  for  he  wanted  to  live.  He  had  sur 
vived  that  terrible  fall,  and  it  was  his  right. 

Something  white  showed  on  the  top  of  a 
sea  to  leeward  and  sank  in  a  hollow.  He 
sank  with  it,  and  when  he  rose  again  it  was 
nearer. 

"  Boat  ahoy  !"  he  sang  out.  "  Boat  ahoy  ! 
—  this  way  —  port  a  little  —  steady." 

He  swam  as  he  could,  cumbered  by  the  life 
buoy,  and  with  every  heaving  sea  the  boat 
came  nearer.  At  last  he  recognized  it  —  the 
ship's  dinghy ;  and  it  was  being  pulled  into 
the  teeth  of  that  forceful  wind  and  sea  by  a 
single  rower  —  a  slight  figure  in  yellow. 

"  It 's  Freda,"  he  exclaimed ;  and  then,  in 
a  shout:  "This  way,  Miss  Folsom — a  little 
farther." 

She  turned,  nodded,  and  pulled  the  boat  up 
to  him.  He  seized  the  gunwale,  and  she  took 
in  the  oars. 

"  Can  you  climb  in  alone, John?  "  she  asked 
in  an  even  voice  —  as  even  as  though  she 
were  asking  him  to  have  more  tea.  "  Wait  a 
little, —  I  am  tired, —  and  I  will  help  you." 

She  was  ever  calm  and  dispassionate,  but 
he  wondered  at  her  now ;  yet  he  would  not 
be  outdone. 

"  I  '11  climb  over  the  stern,  Freda,  so  as  not 
to  capsize  you.  Better  go  forward  to  balance 
my  weight." 

She  did  so.    He  pulled  himself  to  the  stern, 


224  '         FROM   THE   ROYAL- YARD   DOWN 

slipped  the  life-buoy  over  his  head  and  into 
the  boat,  then,  by  a  mighty  exercise  of  all  his 
strength,  vaulted  aboard  with  seeming  ease 
and  sat  down  on  a  thwart.  He  felt  a  strong 
inclination  to  laughter  and  tears,  but  repressed 
himself;  for  masculine  hysterics  would  not 
do  before  this  young  woman.  She  came  aft 
to  the  next  thwart,  and  when  he  felt  steadier 
he  said : 

"  You  have  saved  my  life,  Freda ;  but  thanks 
are  idle  now,  for  your  own  is  in  danger.  Give 
me  the  oars.  We  must  get  back  to  the  ship." 

She  changed  places  with  him,  facing  for 
ward,  and  said  wearily,  as  he  shipped  the 
oars  :  "  So  you  want  to  get  back  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes;  don't  you?  We  are  adrift  in 
an  open  boat." 

<(  The  wind  is  going  down,  and  the  seas  do 
not  break,"  she  answered,  in  the  same  weary 
voice.  "  It  does  not  rain  any  more,  and  we 
will  have  the  moon." 

A  glance  around  told  him  that  she  spoke 
truly.  There  was  less  pressure  to  the  wind, 
and  the  seas  rose  and  fell,  sweeping  past  them 
like  moving  hills  of  oil.  Moonlight  shining 
through  thinning  clouds  faintly  illumined  her 
face,  and  he  saw  the  expressionless  weariness 
of  her  voice,  and  a  sad,  dreamy  look  in  her 
gray  eyes. 

"  How  did  you  get  the  dinghy  down, 
Freda?"  he  asked.  "And  why  did  no  one 
come  with  you  ?  " 


FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN  225 

"  Father  was  asleep,  and  the  mate  was 
incompetent.  I  had  my  revolver,  and  they 
backed  the  yards  for  me  and  threw  the  dinghy 
over.  I  had  loosened  the  gripes  as  you  went 
aloft.  I  thought  you  would  fall.  Still  —  no 
one  would  come." 

"  And  you  came  alone,"  he  said  in  a  broken 
voice,  "and  pulled  this  boat  to  windward  in 
this  sea.  You  are  a  wonder." 

"  I  saw  you  catch  the  life-buoy.  Why  did 
you  fall  ?  You  were  cautioned." 

"  I  forgot  the  foot-rope.  I  was  thinking  of 
you." 

"  You  are  like  the  mate.  He  forgot  the 
foot-rope  all  day  because  he  was  thinking  of 
me.  I  should  have  gone  aloft  and  seized  it 
myself." 

There  was  no  reproof  or  sarcasm  in  the 
tired  voice.  She  had  simply  made  an  as 
sertion. 

"  Why  are  you  at  sea,  before  the  mast  —  a 
man  of  your  talents  ?  " 

It  was  foolish,  he  knew ;  but  the  word 
"  man  "  sent  a  thrill  through  him. 

"  To  please  you  if  I  may ;  to  cultivate 
what  you  did  not  find  in  me." 

"  Yes,  I  knew ;  when  you  came  on  board 
I  knew  it.  But  you  might  have  spoken  to 
me." 

There  was  petulance  in  the  tone  now,  and 
the  soul  of  the  man  rejoiced.  The  woman  in 
her  was  asserting  itself. 


226  FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN 

"  Miss  Folsom,"  he  answered  warmly,  "  I 
could  not.  You  had  made  it  impossible.  It 
was  your  right,  your  duty,  if  you  wished  it. 
But  you  ignored  my  existence." 

"  I  was  testing  you.  I  am  glad  now,  Mr. 
Owen." 

The  petulance  was  gone,  but  there  was 
something  chilling  in  this  answer. 

"  Can  you  see  the  ship  ?  "  he  asked  after 
a  moment's  silence.  "  The  moonlight  is 
stronger." 

"  We  will  not  reach  her.  They  have 
squared  away.  The  mate  had  the  deck,  and 
father  is  asleep." 

"And  left  you  in  an  open  boat,"  he  an 
swered  angrily. 

"  He  knew  I  was  with  you." 

What  was  irrelevant  in  this  explanation  of 
the  mate's  conduct  escaped  him  at  the  time. 
The  full  moon  had  emerged  from  behind  the 
racing  clouds,  and  it  brightened  her  face, 
fringed  by  the  tangled  hair  and  yellow  sou' 
wester,  to  an  unearthly  beauty  that  he  had 
never  seen  before.  He  wondered  at  it,  and 
for  a  moment  a  grisly  thought  crossed  his 
mind  that  this  was  not  life,  but  death  ;  that 
he  had  died  in  the  fall,  and  in  some  manner 
the  girl  had  followed. 

She  was  standing  erect,  her  lithe  figure 
swaying  to  the  boat's  motion,  and  pointing 
to  leeward,  while  the  moonlit  face  was  now 
sweetened  by  the  smile  of  a  happy  child.  He 


FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN  227 

stood  up,  and  looked  where  she  pointed,  but 
saw  nothing,  and  seated  himself  to  look  at  her. 

"See!"  she  exclaimed  gleefully.  "They 
have  hauled  out  the  spanker  and  are  sheet 
ing  home  the  royal.  I  will  never  be  married! 
I  will  never  be  married !  He  knew  I  was 
with  you." 

Again  he  stood  up  and  searched  the  sea  to 
leeward.  There  was  nothing  in  sight. 

"Unhinged,"  he  thought,  "by  this  night's 
trouble.  Freda,"  he  said  gently,  "please  sit 
down.  You  may  fall  overboard." 

"  I  am  not  insane,"  she  said,  as  though 
reading  his  thought;  and,  smiling  radiantly 
in  his  face,  she  obeyed  him. 

"  Do  you  know  where  we  are  ?  "  he  asked 
tentatively.  "  Are  we  in  the  track  of  ships  ?" 

"  No,"  she  answered,  while  her  face  took 
on  the  dreamy  look  again.  "We  are  out  of 
all  the  tracks.  We  will  not  be  picked  up. 
We  are  due  west  from  Ilio  Island.  I  saw  it 
at  sundown  broad  on  the  starboard  bow.  The 
wind  is  due  south.  If  you  will  pull  in  the 
trough  of  the  sea  we  can  reach  it  before  day 
light.  I  am  tired  —  so  tired  —  and  sleepy. 
Will  you  watch  out  ?  " 

"Why,  certainly.  Lie  down  in  the  stern- 
sheets  and  sleep  if  you  can." 

She  curled  up  in  her  yellow  oil-coat  and 
slumbered  through  the  night,  while  he  pulled 
easily  on  the  oars  —  not  that  he  had  full  faith 
in  her  navigation,  but  to  keep  himself  warm. 


228  FROM   THE   ROYAL- YARD   DOWN 

The  sea  became  smoother,  and  as  the  moon 
rose  higher,  it  attained  a  brightness  almost 
equal  to  that  of  the  sun,  casting  over  the  clear 
sky  a  deep-blue  tint  that  shaded  indefinitely 
into  the  darkness  extending  from  itself  to  the 
horizon.  Late  in  the  night  he  remembered 
the  danger  of  sleeping  in  strong  moonlight, 
and  arising  softly  to  cover  her  face  with  his 
damp  handkerchief,  he  found  her  looking  at 
him. 

"  We  are  almost  there,  John.  Wake  me 
when  we  arrive,"  she  said,  and  closed  her 
eyes. 

He  covered  her  face,  and,  marveling  at  her 
words,  looked  ahead.  He  was  within  a  half- 
mile  of  a  sandy  beach  which  bordered  a 
wooded  island.  The  sea  was  now  like  glass 
in  its  level  smoothness,  and  the  air  was  warm 
and  fragrant  with  the  smell  of  flowers  and 
foliage.  He  shipped  the  oars,  and  pulled  to 
the  beach.  As  the  boat  grounded  she  arose, 
and  he  helped  her  ashore. 

The  beach  shone  white  under  the  moon 
light,  and  dotting  it  were  large  shellfish  and 
moving  crabs  that  scuttled  away  from  them. 
Bordering  the  beach  were  forest  and  under 
growth  with  interlacery  of  flowering  vines. 
A  ridge  of  rocks  near  by  disclosed  caves  and 
hollows,  some  filled  by  the  water  of  tinkling 
cascades.  Oranges  showed  in  the  branches 
of  trees,  and  cocoa-palms  lifted  their  heads 
high  in  the  distance.  A  small  deer  arose, 


FROM    THE   ROYAL-YARD    DOWN  229 

looked  at  them,  and  lay  down,  while  a  rabbit 
inspected  them  from  another  direction  and 
began  nibbling. 

"An  earthly  paradise,  I  should  say,"  he 
observed,  as  he  hauled  the  boat  up  the  beach. 
"  Plenty  of  food  and  water,  at  any  rate." 

"  It  is  Ilio  Island,"  she  answered,  with  that 
same  dreamy  voice.  "  It  is  uninhabited  and 
never  visited." 

"  But  surely,  Freda,  something  will  come 
along  and  take  us  off." 

"  No ;  if  I  am  taken  off  I  must  be  married, 
of  course;  and  I  will  never  be  married." 

"Who  to,  Freda?  Whom  must  you  marry 
if  we  are  rescued  ?  " 

"  The  mate — Mr.  Adams.  Not  you,  John 
Owen  —  not  you.  I  do  not  like  you." 

She  was  unbalanced,  of  course  ;  but  the 
speech  pained  him  immeasurably,  and  he  made 
no  answer.  He  searched  the  clean-cut  hori 
zon  for  a  moment,  and  when  he  looked  back 
she  was  close  to  him,  with  the  infantile  smile 
on  her  face,  candor  and  sanity  in  her  gray 
eyes.  Involuntarily  he  extended  his  arms, 
and  she  nestled  within  them. 

"  You  will  be  married,  Freda,"  he  said ; 
"  you  will  be  married,  and  to  me." 

He  held  her  tightly  and  kissed  her  lips ; 
but  the  kiss  ended  in  a  crashing  sound,  and  a 
shock  of  pain  in  his  whole  body  which  ex 
pelled  the  breath  from  his  lungs.  The  moon 
lit  island,  sandy  beach,  blue  sea  and  sky  were 


230  FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN 

swallowed  in  a  blaze  of  light,  which  gave  way 
to  pitchy  darkness,  with  rain  on  his  face  and 
whistling  wind  in  his  ears,  while  he  clung 
with  both  arms,  not  to  a  girl,  but  to  a  hard, 
wet,  and  cold  mizzentopgallant-yard  whose 
iron  jack-stay  had  bumped  him  severely  be 
tween  the  eyes.  Below  him  in  the  darkness 
a  scream  rang  out,  followed  by  the  roar  of  the 
mate:  "Are  you  all  right  up  there?  Want 
any  help  ?  " 

He  had  fallen  four  feet. 

When  he  could  speak  he  answered:  "  I  'm 
all  right,  sir."  And  catching  the  royal  foot- 
rope  dangling  from  the  end  of  the  yard  above 
him,  he  brought  it  to  its  place,  passed  the 
seizing,  and  finished  furling  the  royal.  But 
it  was  a  long  job  ;  his  movements  were  un 
certain,  for  every  nerve  in  his  body  was  jump 
ing  in  its  own  inharmonious  key. 

"What  's  the  matter  wi'  you  up  there?" 
demanded  the  mate  when  he  reached  the 
deck ;  and  a  yellow- clad  figure  drew  near  to 
listen. 

"  It  was  nothing,  sir  ;  I  forgot  about  the 
foot-rope." 

"  You  're  a  bigger  lunkhead  than  I  thought. 
Go  forrard." 

He  went,  and  when  he  came  aft  at  four 
bells  to  take  his  trick  at  the  wheel,  the  girl 
was  still  on  deck,  standing  near  the  com- 
panionway,  facing  forward.  The  mate  stood 
at  the  other  side  of  the  binnacle,  looking  at 


FROM   THE   ROYAL-YARD   DOWN  231 

her,  with  one  elbow  resting  on  the  house. 
There  was  just  light  enough  from  the  cabin 
skylight  for  Owen  to  see  the  expression  which 
came  over  his  face  as  he  watched  the  graceful 
figure  balancing  to  the  heave  of  the  ship.  It 
took  on  the  same  evil  look  which  he  had  seen 
in  his  fall,  while  there  was  no  mistaking  the 
thought  behind  the  gleam  in  his  eyes.  The 
mate  looked  up, — into  Owen's  face, —  and  saw 
something  there  which  he  must  have  under 
stood  ;  for  he  dropped  his  glance  to  the  com 
pass,  snarled  out,  "  Keep  her  on  the  course," 
and  stepped  into  the  lee  alleyway,  where  the 
dinghy,  lashed  upside  down  on  the  house,  hid 
him  from  view. 

The  girl  approached  the  man  at  the  wheel. 

"  I  saw  you  fall,  Mr.  Owen,"  she  said  in  a 
trembling  voice,  "  and  I  could  not  help 
screaming.  Were  you  hurt  much  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Folsom,"  he  answered  in  a  low 
though  not  a  steady  tone ;  "  but  I  was  sadly 
disappointed." 

"  I  confess  I  was  nervous  —  very  nervous 
—  when  you  went  aloft,"  she  said;  "and  I 
cleared  away  the  life-buoy.  Then,  when  you 
fell,  it  slipped  out  of  my  hand  and  went  over 
board.  Mr.  Adams  scolded  me.  Was  n't  it 
ridiculous  ?  "  There  were  tears  and  laughter 
in  the  speech. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  said  gravely;  "it  saved 
my  life  —  for  which  I  thank  you." 

"How  —  why—  " 


232  FROM   THE   ROYAL- YARD   DOWN 

"  Who  in  Sam  Hill 's  been  casting  off  these 
gripe- lashings?"  growled  the  voice  of  the  mate 
behind  the  dinghy. 

The  girl  tittered  hysterically,  and  stepped 
beside  Owen  at  the  wheel,  where  she  patted 
the  moving  spokes,  pretending  to  assist  him 
in  steering. 

"  Miss  Freda,"  said  the  officer,  sternly,  as 
he  came  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  "  I 
must  ask  you  plainly  to  let  things  alone ;  and 
another  thing,  please  don't  talk  to  the  man  at 
the  wheel." 

"  Will  you  please  mind  your  own  business  ?  " 
she  almost  screamed ;  and  then,  crying  and 
laughing  together:  "If  you  paid  as  much  at 
tention  to  your  work  as  you  do  to  —  to  —  me, 
men  would  n't  fall  from  aloft  on  account  of 
rotten  foot-ropes." 

The  abashed  officer  went  forward,  grum 
bling  about  "  discipline  "  and  "  women  aboard 
ship."  When  he  was  well  out  of  sight  in  the 
darkness,  the  girl  turned  suddenly,  passed 
both  arms  around  Owen's  neck,  exerted  a 
very  slight  pressure,  patted  him  playfully  on 
the  shoulder  as  she  withdrew  them,  and  sped 
down  the  companionway. 

He  steered  a  wild  course  during  that 
trick,  and  well  deserved  the  profane  criticism 
which  he  received  from  the  mate. 


NEEDS    MUST  WHEN  THE 
DEVIL  DRIVES 


HOGGED  at  bow  and  stern,  her  deck 
sloped  at  the  ends  like  a  truck's  plat 
form,  while  a  slight  twist  in  the  old  hull 
canted  the  foremast  to  port  and  the  mizzen 
to  starboard.  It  would  be  hard  to  know 
when  she  was  on  an  even  keel.  The  uneven 
planking,  inboard  and  out,  was  scarred  like  a 
chopping-block,  possibly  from  a  former  and 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  coal  trade. 
Aloft  were  dingy  gray  spars,  slack  hemp 
rigging,  untarred  for  years,  and  tan-colored 
sails,  mended  with  patch  upon  patch  of  lighter- 
hued  canvas  that  seemed  about  to  fall  apart 
from  their  own  weight.  She  was  English- 
built,  bark-rigged,  bluff  in  the  bow,  square 
in  the  stern,  unpainted  and  leaky  —  on  the 
whole  as  unkempt  and  disreputable-looking 
a  craft  as  ever  flew  the  black  flag ;  and 
with  the  clank  of  the  pumps  marking  time 
to  the  wailing  squeak  of  the  tiller-ropes,  she 
wallowed  through  the  waves  like  a  log  in  an 
eddying  tideway. 

233 


234    NEEDS   MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL  DRIVES 

Even  the  black  flag  at  the  gaff-end  wore  a 
makeshift,  slovenly  air.  It  was  a  square  sec 
tion  of  the  bark's  foreroyal,  painted  black 
around  the  skull-and-cross-bones design,  which 
had  been  left  the  original  hue  of  the  canvas. 
The  port-holes  were  equally  slovenly  in  ap 
pearance,  being  cut  through  between  stan 
chions  with  axes  instead  of  saws ;  and  the 
bulwarks  were  further  disfigured  by  extra 
holes  smashed  through  at  the  stanchions  to 
take  the  lashings  of  the  gun-breechings.  But 
the  guns  were  bright  and  cared  for,  as  were 
the  uniforms  of  the  crew ;  for  they  had  been 
lately  transhipped.  Far  from  home,  with  a 
general  cargo,  this  ancient  trader  had  been 
taken  in  a  fog  by  Captain  Swarth  and  his 
men  an  hour  before  their  own  well-found 
vessel  had  sunk  alongside — which  gave  them 
just  time  to  hoist  over  guns  and  ammunition. 
When  the  fog  shifted,  the  pursuing  English 
war-brig  that  had  riddled  the  pirate  saw  no 
thing  but  the  peaceful  old  tub  ahead,  and  went 
on  into  the  fog,  looking  for  the  other. 

"Any  port  in  a  storm,  Angel,"  remarked 
Captain  Swarth,  as  he  flashed  his  keen  eyes 
over  the  rickety  fabric  aloft;  "but  we  '11  find 
a  better  one  soon.  How  do  the  boys  stand 
the  pumping?  " 

Mr.  Angel  Todd,  first  mate  and  quarter 
master,  filled  a  black  pipe  before  answering. 
Then,  between  the  first  and  second  deep  puffs, 
he  said  :  "  Growlin' — dammum." 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL  DRIVES    235 

"At  the  work?" 

"Yep,  and  the  grub.  And  they  say  the 
'tween-deck  and  forecastle  smells  o'  bedbugs 
and  bilge-water,  and  they  want  their  grog. 
'  An  ungodly  witness  scorneth  judgment :  and 
the  mouth  of  the  wicked  devoureth  iniquity.' ' 
Mr.  Todd  had  been  educated  for  the  pulpit ; 
but,  going  out  as  a  missionary,  he  had  fallen 
into  ungodly  ways  and  taken  to  the  sea,  where 
he  was  more  successful.  Many  of  his  old 
phrasings  clung  to  him. 

"  Well,"  drawled  the  captain,  "  men  get 
fastidious  and  high-toned  in  this  business, — 
can't  blame  them, — but  we  Ve  got  to  make 
the  coast,  and  if  we  don't  pick  up  some 
thing  on  the  way,  we  must  careen  and  stop 
the  leak.  Then  they  '11  have  something  to 
growl  about." 

"  S'pose  the  brig  follows  us  in  ?  " 

"  Hope  she  will,"  said  Captain  Swarth, 
with  a  pleasant  smile  and  a  lightening  of  his 
eyes  —  "hope  she  will,  and  give  me  a  chance. 
Her  majestic  widowship  owes  me  a  brig,  and 
that 's  a  fine  one." 

Mr.  Todd  had  never  been  known  to  smile, 
but  at  this  speech  he  lifted  one  eyebrow 
and  turned  his  saturnine  face  full  at  his 
superior,  inquiry  written  upon  every  line  of 
it.  Captain  Swarth  was  musing,  however, 
and  said  no  more ;  so  the  mate,  knowing 
better  than  to  attempt  probing  his  mind, 
swung  his  long  figure  down  the  poop-ladder, 


236    NEEDS  MUST  WHEN   THE  DEVIL  DRIVES 

and  went  forward  to  harass  the  men — which, 
in  their  opinion,  was  all  he  was  good  for. 

According  to  his  mood,  Mr.  Todd's  speech 
was  choicest  English  or  the  cosmopolitan, 
technical  slang  of  the  sea,  mingled  with  won 
derful  profanity.  But  one  habit  of  his  early 
days  he  never  dropped :  he  wore,  in  the  hot 
test  weather,  and  in  storm  and  battle,  the 
black  frock  and  choker  of  the  clerical  profes 
sion.  Standing  now  with  one  foot  on  the 
fore-hatch,  waving  his  long  arms  and  objur 
gating  the  scowling  men  at  the  pumps,  he 
might  easily  have  seemed,  to  any  one  beyond 
the  reach  of  his  language,  to  be  a  clergyman 
exhorting  them.  Captain  Swarth  watched 
him  with  an  amused  look  on  his  sunburnt 
face,  and  muttered:  "Good  man,  every  inch 
of  him,  but  he  can't  handle  men."  Then  he 
called  him  aft. 

"Angel,"  he  said,  "we  made  a  mistake  in 
cutting  the  ports ;  we  can't  catch  anything 
afloat  that  sees  them,  so  we  '11  have  to  pass 
for  a  peaceable  craft  until  we  can  drift  close 
enough  to  board  something.  I  think  the 
brig  '11  be  back  this  way,  too.  Get  out  some 
old  tarpaulins  and  cover  up  the  ports.  Paint 
them,  if  you  can,  the  color  of  the  sides,  and 
you  might  coil  some  lines  over  the  rail,  as 
though  to  dry.  Then  you  can  break  out 
cargo  and  strike  the  guns  down  the  main- 
hatch." 

Three  days  later,  with  Cape  St.  Roque  a 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE   DEVIL  DRIVES    237 

black  line  to  the  westward,  a  round  shot 
across  her  bows  brought  the  old  vessel  — 
minus  the  black  emblem  now,  and  outwardly 
respectable  —  up  to  the  wind,  with  maintop- 
sail  aback,  while  Captain  Swarth  and  a  dozen 
of  his  men  —  equally  respectable  in  the  non 
descript  rig  of  the  merchant  sailor  —  watched 
the  approach  of  an  English  brig  of  war.  Mr. 
Todd  and  the  rest  of  the  crew  were  below 
hatches  with  the  guns. 

The  brig  came  down  the  wind  like  a  grace 
ful  bird  —  a  splendid  craft,  black,  shiny,  and 
shipshape,  five  guns  to  a  side,  brass-bound 
officers  on  her  quarter-deck,  blue-jackets  dart 
ing  about  her  white  deck  and  up  aloft,  a 
homeward-bound  pennant  trailing  from  her 
main-truck,  and  at  her  gaff-end  a  British  en 
sign  as  large  as  her  mainroyal.  Captain 
Swarth  lazily  hoisted  the  English  flag  to  the 
bark's  gaff,  and,  as  the  brig  rounded  to  on 
his  weather  beam,  he  pointed  to  it ;  but  his 
dark  eyes  sparkled  enviously  as  he  viewed 
the  craft  whose  government's  protection  he 
appealed  to. 

"  Bark  ahoy  !  "  came  a  voice  through  a  trum 
pet.  "  What  bark  is  that  ?  " 

Captain  Swarth  swung  himself  into  the 
mizzen-rigging  and  answered  through  his 
hands  with  an  excellent  cockney  accent : 
"  Tryde  Wind  o  Lunnon,  Cappen  Quirk, 
fifty-one  dyes  out  fro'  Liverpool,  bound  to 
Callao,  gen'ral  cargo." 


238    NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL  DRIVES 

"  You  were  not  heading  for  the  Horn." 

"  Hi  'm  a-leakin'  badly.  Hi  'm  a-goin'  to 
myke  the  coast  to  careen.  D'  ye  happen  to 
know  a  good  place  ?  " 

An  officer  left  the  group  and  returned  with 
what  Captain  Swarth  knew  was  a  chart,  which 
a  few  of  them  studied,  while  their  captain 
hailed  again : 

"  See  anything  more  of  that  pirate  brig  the 
other  day?" 

"What!  a  pirate?  Be  'e  a  pirate?"  an 
swered  Captain  Swarth,  in  agitated  tones. 
"  Be  that  you  a-chasin'  of 'im  ?  Nao,  hi  seed 
nothink  of  'im  arter  the  fog  shut  'im  out." 

The  captain  conferred  with  his  officers  a 
moment,  then  called : 

"  We  are  going  in  to  careen  ourselves. 
That  fellow  struck  us  on  the  water-line.  We 
are  homeward  bound,  and  Rio  's  too  far  to 
run  back.  Follow  us  in  ;  but  if  you  lose  sight 
of  us,  it  's  a  small  bay,  latitude  nine  fifty-one 
forty  south,  rocks  to  the  north,  lowland  to  the 
south,  good  water  at  the  entrance,  and  a  fine 
beach.  Look  out  for  the  brig.  It  's  Swarth 
and  his  gang.  Good  morning." 

"Aye,  that  hi  will.  Thank  ye.  Good 
marninV 

In  three  hours  the  brig  was  a  speck  under 
the  rising  land  ahead  ;  in  another,  she  was 
out  of  sight ;  but  before  this  Captain  Swarth 
and  his  crew  had  held  a  long  conference, 
which  resulted  in  sail  being  shortened,  though 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE   DEVIL  DRIVES     239 

the  man  at  the  wheel  was  given  a  straight 
course  to  the  bay  described  by  the  English 
captain. 

Late  on  the  following  afternoon  the  old 
bark  blundered  into  this  bay  —  a  rippling 
sheet  of  water,  bag-shaped,  and  bordered  on 
all  sides  by  a  sandy  beach.  Stretching  up  to 
the  mountainous  country  was  a  luxurious  forest 
of  palm,  laurel,  and  cactus,  bound  and  inter 
twined  by  almost  impassable  undergrowth, 
and  about  half-way  from  the  entrance  to  the 
end  of  the  bay  was  the  English  brig,  moored 
and  slightly  careened  on  the  inshore  beach. 
Captain  Swarth's  seamanly  eye  noted  certain 
appearances  of  the  tackles  that  held  her  down, 
which  told  him  that  the  work  was  done  and 
she  was  being  slacked  upright.  "  Just  in 
time,"  he  muttered. 

They  brought  the  bark  to  anchor  near  the 
beach,  about  a  half-mile  from  the  brig,  furled 
the  canvas,  and  ran  out  an  anchor  astern, 
with  the  cable  over  the  taffrail.  Heaving 
on  this,  they  brought  the  vessel  parallel  with 
the  shore.  So  far,  good.  Guns  and  cargo 
lightered  ashore,  more  anchors  seaward  to 
keep  her  off  the  beach,  masthead  tackles 
to  the  trees  to  heave  her  down,  and  pre 
venter  rigging  and  braces  to  assist  the  masts, 
would  have  been  next  in  order,  but  they 
proceeded  no  further  toward  careening.  In 
stead,  they  lowered  the  two  crazy  boats, 
provisioned  and  armed  them  on  the  in- 


240     NEEDS  MUST  WHEN   THE  DEVIL  DRIVES 

shore  side  of  the  bark,  made  certain  other 
preparations  —  and  waited. 

On  the  deck  of  the  English  brig  things 
were  moving.  A  gang  of  blue-jackets,  under 
the  first  lieutenant,  were  heaving  in  the  cable  ; 
another  gang,  under  the  boatswain,  were 
sending  down  and  stowing  away  the  heavy 
tackles  and  careening-gear,  tailing  out  hal 
yards  and  sheets  and  coiling  down  the  light- 
running  rigging,  while  topmen  aloft  loosed 
the  canvas  to  bunt  gaskets,  ready  to  drop  it 
at  the  call  from  the  deck. 

The  second  lieutenant,  overseeing  this 
latter,  paced  the  port  quarter-deck  and  an 
swered  remarks  from  Captain  Bunce,  who 
paced  the  sacred  starboard  side  (the  brig 
being  at  anchor)  and  occasionally  turned  his 
glass  on  the  dilapidated  craft  down  the 
beach. 

"  Seems  to  me,  Mr.  Shack,"  he  said  across 
the  deck,  "that  an  owner  who  would  send 
that  bark  around  the  Horn,  and  the  master 
who  would  take  her,  ought  to  be  sequestered 
and  cared  for,  either  in  an  asylum  or  in  jail." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  think  so  too,"  answered  the 
second  lieutenant,  looking  aloft.  "  Might  be 
an  insurance  job.  Clear  away  that  bunt-gasket 
on  the  royal-yard,"  he  added  in  a  roar. 

Captain  Bunce  —  round,  rosy,  with  brilliant 
mutton-chop  whiskers  —  muttered  :  "  Insur 
ance —  wrecked  intentionally  —  no,  not  here 
where  we  are ;  would  n't  court  investigation 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN   THE  DEVIL  DRIVES     241 

by  her  Majesty's  officers."  He  rolled  forward, 
then  aft,  and  looked  again  through  the  glass. 

"Very  large  crew  —  very  large,"  he  said; 
"very  curious,  Mr.  Shack." 

A  hail  from  the  forecastle,  announcing  that 
the  anchor  was  short,  prevented  Mr.  Shack's 
answering.  Captain  Bunce  waved  a  depre 
catory  hand  to  the  first  lieutenant,  who  came 
aft  at  once,  while  Mr.  Shack  descended  to  the 
waist,  and  the  boatswain  ascended  the  fore 
castle  steps  to  attend  to  the  anchor.  The 
first  lieutenant  now  had  charge  of  the  brig, 
and  from  the  quarter-deck  gave  his  orders 
to  the  crew,  while  Captain  Bunce  busied  him 
self  with  his  glass  and  his  thoughts. 

Fore-and-aft  sail  was  set  and  head-sheets 
trimmed  down  to  port,  square  sails  were 
dropped,  sheeted  home,  and  hoisted,  foreyards 
braced  to  port,  the  anchor  tripped  and  fished, 
and  the  brig  paid  off  from  the  land-breeze, 
and,  with  foreyards  swung,  steadied  down  to 
a  course  for  the  entrance. 

"Mr.  Duncan,"  said  the  captain,  "there 
are  fully  forty  men  on  that  bark's  deck,  all 
dressed  alike  —  all  in  red  shirts  and  knitted 
caps  —  and  all  dancing  around  like  madmen. 
Look!"  He  handed  the  glass  to  the  first 
lieutenant,  who  brought  it  to  bear. 

"  Strange,"  said  the  officer,  after  a  short 
scrutiny ;  "  there  were  only  a  few  showing 
when  we  spoke  her  outside.  It  looks  as 
though  they  were  all  drunk." 


16 


242    NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE   DEVIL  DRIVES 

As  they  drew  near,  sounds  of  singing  — 
uproarious  discord  —  reached  them,  and  soon 
they  could  see  with  the  naked  eye  that  the 
men  on  the  bark  were  wrestling,  dancing,  and 
running  about. 

"Quarters,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Duncan. 
"  Shall  we  bring  to  alongside  ?  " 

"Well  —  no  —  not  yet,"  said  the  captain, 
hesitatingly;  "  it  's  all  right  —  possibly;  yet 
it  is  strange.  Wait  a  little." 

They  waited,  and  had  sailed  down  almost 
abreast  of  the  gray  old  craft,  noticing,  as  they 
drew  near,  an  appreciable  diminution  of  the 
uproar,  when  a  flag  arose  from  the  stern  of 
the  bark,  a  dusky  flag  that  straightened  out 
directly  toward  them,  so  that  it  was  difficult 
to  make  out. 

But  they  soon  understood.  As  they  reached 
a  point  squarely  abreast  of  the  bark,  five 
points  of  flame  burst  from  her  innocent  gray 
sides,  five  clouds  of  smoke  ascended,  and  five 
round  shot,  coming  with  the  thunder  of  the 
guns,  hurtled  through  their  rigging.  Then 
they  saw  the  design  of  the  flag,  a  white  skull 
and  cross-bones,  and  noted  another,  a  black 
flag  too,  but  pennant-shaped,  and  showing 
in  rudely  painted  letters  the  single  word 
"  Swarth,"  sailing  up  to  the  forepeak. 

" Thunder  and  lightning!"  roared  Captain 
Bunce.  "  Quarters,  Mr.  Duncan,  quarters, 
and  in  with  the  kites.  Give  it  to  them.  Put 
about  first." 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE   DEVIL  DRIVES    243 

A  youngster  of  the  crew  had  sprung  below 
and  immediately  emerged  with  a  drum  which, 
without  definite  instruction,  he  hammered 
vigorously ;  but  before  he  had  begun,  men 
were  clearing  away  guns  and  manning  flying- 
jib  downhaul  and  royal  clue-lines.  Others 
sprang  to  stations,  anticipating  all  that  the 
sharp  voice  of  the  first  lieutenant  could  order. 
Around  came  the  brig  on  the  other  tack  and 
sailed  back,  receiving  another  broadside 
through  her  rigging  and  answering  with  her 
starboard  guns.  Then  for  a  time  the  din  was 
deafening.  The  brig  backed  her  main-yards 
and  sent  broadside  after  broadside  into  the 
hull  of  the  old  craft.  But  it  was  not  until  the 
eighth  had  gone  that  Captain  Bunce  noticed 
through  the  smoke  that  the  pirates  were  not 
firing.  The  smoke  from  the  burning  canvas 
port-coverings  had  deluded  him.  He  ordered 
a  cessation.  Fully  forty  solid  shot  had  torn 
through  that  old  hull  near  the  water-line,  and 
not  a  man  could  now  be  seen  on  her  deck. 

"  Out  with  the  boats,  Mr.  Duncan,"  he  said ; 
"  they  Ye  drunk  or  crazy,  but  they  're  the  men 
we  want.  Capture  them." 

"  Suppose  they  run,  sir — suppose  they  take 
to  their  boats  and  get  into  the  woods  —  shall 
we  follow  ?  " 

"  No,  not  past  the  beach  —  not  into  an 
ambush." 

The  four  boat-loads  of  men  which  put  off 
from  the  brig  found  nothing  but  a  deserted 


244    NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL  DRIVES 

deck  on  the  sinking  bark  and  two  empty 
boats  hauled  up  on  the  beach.  The  pirates 
were  in  the  woods,  undoubtedly,  having  kept 
the  bark  between  themselves  and  the  brig  as 
they  pulled  ashore.  While  the  blue -jackets 
clustered  around  the  bows  of  their  boats  and 
watched  nervously  the  line  of  forest  up  the 
beach,  from  which  bullets  might  come  at 
any  time,  the  two  lieutenants  conferred  for  a 
few  moments,  and  had  decided  to  put  back, 
when  a  rattling  chorus  of  pistol  reports 
sounded  from  the  depths  of  the  woods.  It 
died  away  ;  then  was  heard  a  crashing  of  bush 
and  branch,  and  out  upon  the  sands  sprang  a 
figure  —  a  long,  weird  figure  in  black  frock  of 
clerical  cut.  Into  their  midst  it  sped  with 
mighty  bounds,  and  sinking  down,  lifted  a 
glad  face  to  the  heavens  with  the  groaning 
utterance :  "  O  God,  I  thank  thee.  Protect 
me,  gentlemen  —  protect  me  from  those 
wicked  men." 

11  What  is  it?  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Duncan.  "  Were  they  shooting  at  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  at  me,  who  never  harmed  a  fly. 
They  would  have  killed  me.  My  name  is 
Todd.  Oh,  such  suffering !  But  you  will 
protect  me  ?  You  are  English  officers.  You 
are  not  pirates  and  murderers." 

"But  what  has  happened?  Do  you  live 
around  here  ?  " 

It  took  some  time  for  Mr.  Todd  to  quiet 
down  sufficiently  to  tell  his  story  coherently. 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE   DEVIL  DRIVES     245 

He  was  an  humble  laborer  in  the  vineyard  of 
the  Lord.  He  had  gleaned  among  the  poor 
est  of  the  native  population  in  the  outskirts 
of  Rio  de  Janeiro  until  his  health  suffered,  and 
had  taken  passage  home  in  a  passenger-ship, 
which,  ten  days  out,  was  captured  by  a  pirate 
brig.  And  the  pirate  crew  had  murdered 
every  soul  on  board  but  himself,  and  only 
spared  his  life,  as  he  thought,  for  the  purpose 
of  amusement ;  for  they  had  compelled  him  to 
dance  —  he,  a  minister  of  the  gospel  —  and 
had  made  him  drink  under  torture,  and  recite 
ribald  poetry,  and  swear,  and  wash  their 
clothes.  All  sorts  of  indignities  had  been 
heaped  upon  him,  but  he  had  remembered  the 
injunction  of  the  Master;  he  had  invariably 
turned  the  other  cheek  when  smitten,  and  had 
prayed  for  their  souls.  He  told  of  the  flight 
from  the  English  war-brig,  of  the  taking  of 
the  old  bark  in  the  fog  and  the  sinking  of 
the  pirate  craft,  of  the  transfer  of  guns  and 
treasure  to  the  bark,  and  the  interview  at  sea 
with  the  English  brig,  in  which  Captain 
Swarth  had  deceived  the  other,  and  of  Cap 
tain  Swarth's  reckless  confidence  in  himself, 
which  had  induced  him  to  follow  the  brig  in 
and  careen  in  the  same  bay.  He  wound  up 
his  tale  with  a  lurid  description  of  the  drunken 
debauch  following  the  anchoring  of  the  bark, — 
during  which  he  had  trembled  for  his  life, — 
of  the  insane  firing  on  the  brig  as  she  passed, 
and  the  tumbling  into  the  boats  when  the  brig 


246    NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE   DEVIL  DRIVES 

returned  the  fire,  of  the  flight  into  the  woods, 
the  fighting  among  themselves,  and  his  escape 
under  fire. 

As  he  finished  he  offered  an  incoherent 
prayer  of  thankfulness,  and  the  sympathetic 
Mr.  Shack  drew  forth  his  pocket-flask  and 
offered  it  to  the  agitated  sufferer  ;  but  Mr. 
Todd,  who  could  probably  drink  more  whisky 
and  feel  it  less  than  any  other  man  in  the  pirate 
crew,  declined  the  poison  with  a  shiver  of 
abhorrence.  Then  Mr.  Duncan,  who  had 
listened  thoughtfully,  said :  "  You  speak  of 
treasure  ;  did  they  take  it  with  them  ?  " 

Mr.  Todd  opened  wide  his  eyes,  looked 
toward  the  dark  shades  of  the  forest,  then  at 
the  three  masts  of  the  bark  rising  out  of  the 
water,  and  answered  impressively  : 

"  Gentlemen,  they  did  not.  They  were  in 
toxicated —  mad  with  liquor.  They  took 
arms  and  a  knapsack  of  food  to  each  man, — 
they  spoke  of  an  inland  retreat  to  which  they 
were  going, —  but  the  treasure  from  the  pas 
senger-ship —  the  bars  of  gold  and  the  bags 
of  diamonds  —  they  forgot.  They  transferred 
it  from  their  sinking  vessel  when  sober,  but 
when  intoxicated  they  remembered  food  and 
left  it  behind.  Gentlemen,  there  is  untold 
wealth  in  the  hull  out  there  which  your  fire 
has  sunk.  It  is,  verily,  the  root  of  all  evil ; 
let  us  hope  that  it  remains  at  the  bottom  of 
the  sea." 

"Bars  of  gold  —  bags  of  diamonds!"  said 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL   DRIVES     247 

Mr.  Duncan.      "  Come  on  board,  Mr.  Todd ; 
we  '11  see  what  the  captain  thinks." 

At  dinner  in  the  brig's  cabin  that  evening 

—  as  a  prelude  to  which  Mr.  Todd  said  grace 

—  his  account  of  the  wealth   spread  out  on 
Captain  Swarth's  cabin  table  after  the  taking 
of  the  passenger-ship  was  something  to  arouse 
interest  in  a  less  worldly  man  than  Captain 
Bunce.    Virgin  gold  —  in  bars,  ingots,  bricks, 
and  dust  —  from  the  Morro  Velho  mines  of 
Brazil  was  there,  piled  up  on  the  table  until  the 
legs  had  given  way  and  launched  the  glitter 
ing  mass  to  the  floor.     Diamonds  uncut,  un 
counted,  of  untold  value, —  a  three  years'  prod 
uct  of  the  whole  Chapada  district, —  some  as 
large  as  walnuts,  had  been   spread  out  and 
tossed  about  like  marbles  by  those  lawless 
men,  then  boxed  up  with  the  gold  and  stowed 
among    the    cargo    under    the    main-hatch. 
Again    Mr.  Todd    expressed    the    hope  that 
Providence  would  see  fit  to  let  this  treasure 
remain    where   the   pirates    had    left    it,    no 
longer  to  tempt  man  to  kill  and  steal.     But 
Captain   Bunce  and  his  officers  thought  dif 
ferently.     Glances,  then  tentative  comments, 
were    exchanged,  and    in    five    minutes  they 
were  of  one  mind,  even  including  Mr.  Todd ; 
for  it  may  not  be  needless  to  state  that  the 
treasure  and  the  passenger-ship  existed  only 
in  his  imagination. 

Pending  the  return  of  the  boats  the  brig's 
anchor  had  been  dropped  about  two  hundred 


248     NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE   DEVIL  DRIVES 

yards  from  the  bark ;  now  canvas  was  furled, 
and  at  eight  bells  all  hands  were  mustered  aft 
to  hear  what  was  in  store.  Captain  Bunce 
stated  the  case  succinctly ;  they  were  home 
ward  bound  and  under  general  orders  until 
they  reported  to  the  admiral  at  Plymouth. 
Treasure  was  within  their  reach,  apportion- 
able,  when  obtained,  as  prize-money.  It  was 
useless  to  pursue  the  pirates  into  the  Brazilian 
jungle ;  but  they  would  need  to  be  watchful 
and  ready  for  surprise  at  any  moment,  either 
while  at  work  raising  the  bark  or  at  night ; 
for  though  they  had  brought  out  the  two 
boats  in  which  the  pirates  had  escaped,  they 
could  find  other  means  of  attack,  should  they 
dare  or  care  to  make  it.  The  English  sailors 
cheered.  Mr.  Todd  begged  to  say  a  few 
words,  and  enjoined  them  not  to  allow  the 
love  of  lucre  to  tempt  their  minds  from  the 
duty  they  owed  to  their  God,  their  country, 
and  their  captain,  which  was  also  applauded 
and  forgotten  in  a  moment.  Then,  leaving  a 
double-anchor  watch,  provided  with  blue  fire 
and  strict  instructions,  on  deck,  the  crew 
turned  in  to  dream  of  an  affluent  future,  and 
Mr.  Todd  was  shown  to  a  comfortable  state 
room.  He  removed  his  coat  and  vest,  closed 
the  door  and  dead-light,  filled  and  lighted  his 
black  pipe,  and  rolled  into  the  berth  with  a 
seaman's  sigh  of  contentment. 

"That  was  a  good  dinner,"  he  murmured, 
after  he  had  filled  the  room  with  smoke — "a 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL  DRIVES     249 

good  dinner.  Nothing  on  earth  is  too  good 
for  a  sky-pilot.  I  'd  go  back  to  the  business 
when  I  've  made  my  pile,  if  it  was  n't  so  all- 
fired  hard  on  the  throat ;  and  then  the  trus 
tees,  with  their  eternal  kicking  on  economy, 
and  the  sisters,  and  the  donation-parties  — 
yah,  to  h — 1  with  'em  !  Wonder  if  this  brig 
ever  carried  a  chaplain?  Wonder  how  Bill 
and  the  boys  are  making  out?  Fine  brig, 
this, — 'leven  knots  on  a  bow-line,  I  '11  bet, — 
fine  state-room,  good  grub,  nothin'  to  do  but 
save  souls  and  preach  the  Word  on  Sunday. 
Guess  I  '11  strike  the  fat  —  duffer  —  for  the  — 
job  —  in  —  the  —  morn — "  The  rest  of  the 
sentence  merged  into  a  snore,  and  Mr.  Todd 
slept  through  the  night  in  the  fumes  of  to 
bacco,  which  so  permeated  his  very  being 
that  Captain  Bunce  remarked  it  at  breakfast. 
"  Smoke,  Captain  Bunce  ?  I  smoke  ?  Not  I," 
he  answered  warmly;  "but,  you  see,  those 
ungodly  men  compelled  me  to  clean  all  their 
pipes, —  forty  foul  pipes, —  and  I  do  not  doubt 
that  some  nicotine  has  lodged  on  my  clothing." 
Whereupon  Captain  Bunce  told  of  a  chaplain 
he  had  once  sailed  with  whose  clothing  smelled 
so  vilely  that  he  himself  had  framed  a  petition 
to  the  admiral  for  his  transfer  to  another  ship 
and  station.  And  the  little  story  had  the 
effect  on  Mr.  Todd  of  causing  him  mentally  to 
vow  that  he  'd  "ship  with  no  man  who  did  n't 
allow  smoking,"  and  openly  aver  that  no  sin 
cere,  consistent  Christian  clergyman  would  be 


250    NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL  DRIVES 

satisfied  to  stultify  himself  and  waste  his 
energies  in  the  comfort  and  ease  of  a  naval 
chaplaincy,  and  that  a  chaplain  who  would 
smoke  should  be  discredited  and  forced  out  of 
the  profession.  But  later,  when  Captain  Bunce 
and  his  officers  lighted  fat  cigars,  and  he 
learned  that  the  aforesaid  chaplain  had  merely 
been  a  careless  devotee  of  pipe  and  pigtail 
twist,  Mr.  Todd's  feelings  may  be  imagined 
(by  a  smoker) ;  but  he  had  committed  him 
self  against  tobacco  and  must  suffer. 

During  the  breakfast  the  two  lieutenants 
reported  the  results  of  a  survey  which  they 
had  taken  of  the  wreck  at  daylight. 

"We  find,"  said  Mr.  Duncan,  "about  nine 
feet  of  water  over  the  deck  at  the  stern,  and 
about  three  feet  over  the  fore-hatch  at  low  tide. 
The  topgallant-forecastle  is  awash  and  the 
end  of  the  bowsprit  out  of  water,  so  that  we 
can  easily  reach  the  upper  ends  of  the  bob- 
stays.  There  is  about  five  feet  rise  and  fall 
of  tide.  Now,  we  have  no  pontoons  nor 
casks.  Our  only  plan,  captain,  is  to  lift  her 
bodily." 

"  But  we  have  a  diving-suit  and  air-pump," 
said  Mr.  Shack,  enthusiastically,  "and  fifty 
men  ready  to  dive  without  suits.  We  can  raise 
her,  captain,  in  two  weeks." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Captain  Bunce,  grandly, 
"  I  have  full  faith  in  your  seamanship  and 
skill.  I  leave  the  work  in  your  hands." 
Which  was  equivalent  to  an  admission  that 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN   THE  DEVIL   DRIVES     251 

he  was  fat  and  lazy,  and  did  not  care  to  take 
an  active  part. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Duncan,  and 
" Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Shack;  then  the 
captain  said  other  pleasant  things,  which 
brought  other  pleasant  responses,  and  the 
breakfast  passed  off  so  agreeably  that  Mr. 
Todd,  in  spite  of  the  soul-felt  yearning  for  a 
smoke  inspired  by  the  cigars  in  the  mouths 
of  the  others,  felt  the  influence  of  the  enthu 
siasm  and  bestowed  his  blessing  —  qualifiedly 
—  on  the  enterprise. 

Every  man  of  the  brig's  crew  was  eager  for 
the  work,  but  few  could  engage  at  first ;  for 
there  was  nothing  but  the  forecastle-deck  and 
the  bark's  rigging  to  stand  upon.  Down 
came  the  disgraceful  black  flags  the  first 
thing,  and  up  to  the  gaff  went  the  ensign  of 
Britain.  Then  they  sent  down  the  fore  and 
main  lower  and  topsail  yards,  and  erected 
them  as  sheers  over  the  bow  and  stern,  lower 
ends  well  socketed  in  spare  anchor-stocks  to 
prevent  their  sinking  in  the  sand,  upper  ends 
lashed  together  and  stayed  to  each  other  and 
to  the  two  anchors  ahead  and  astern.  To 
the  sheer-heads  they  rigged  heavy  threefold 
tackles,  and  to  the  disconnected  bobstays 
(chains  leading  from  the  bowsprit  end  to  the 
stem  at  the  water-line)  they  hooked  the  for 
ward  tackle,  and  heaving  on  the  submerged 
windlass,  lifted  the  bow  off  the  bottom — high 
enough  to  enable  them  to  slip  two  shots  of 


252     NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL   DRIVES 

anchor-chain  under  the  keel,  one  to  take  the 
weight  at  the  stern,  the  other  at  the  bow,  for 
the  bobstays  would  pull  out  of  the  stem  under 
the  increased  strain  as  the  bark  arose. 

Most  of  this  work  was  done  under  water ; 
but  a  wetting  is  nothing  to  men  looking  for 
gold,  and  nobody  cared.  Yet,  as  a  result  of 
ruined  uniforms,  the  order  came  from  Captain 
Bunce  to  wear  underclothing  only  or  go  naked, 
which  latter  the  men  preferred,  though  the 
officers  clung  to  decency  and  tarry  duck 
trousers.  Every  morning  the  day  began 
with  the  washing  of  the  brig's  deck  and 
scouring  of  brasswork  —  which  must  be  done 
at  sea  though  the  heavens  fall ;  then  followed 
breakfast,  the  arming  of  the  boats  ready  for 
an  attack  from  the  shore,  and  the  descent  upon 
the  bark  of  as  many  men  as  could  work. 

Occasionally  Captain  Bunce  would  order 
the  dinghy,  and,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Todd, 
would  visit  the  bark  and  offer  interfering  sug 
gestions,  after  the  manner  of  captains,  which 
only  embarrassed  the  officers ;  and  Mr.  Todd 
would  take  advantage  of  these  occasions  to 
make  landlubberly  comments  and  show  a 
sad  ignorance  of  things  nautical.  But  often 
he  would  decline  the  invitation,  and  when  the 
captain  was  gone  would  descend  to  his  room, 
and,  shutting  the  door,  grip  his  beloved  — 
though  empty — black  pipe  between  his  teeth 
and  breathe  through  it,  while  his  eyes  shone 
fiercely  with  unsatisfied  desire,  and  his  mind 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL   DRIVES     253 

framed  silent  malediction  on  Bill  Swarth  for 
condemning  him  to  this  smokeless  sojourn. 
For  he  dared  not  smoke;  stewards,  cooks,  and 
sailors  were  all  about  him. 

In  three  days  the  bark's  nose  was  as  high 
as  the  seven-part  tackle  would  bring  it,  with 
all  men  heaving  who  could  find  room  at  the 
windlass-brakes.  Then  they  clapped  a  luff- 
tackle  on  the  fall,  and  by  heaving  on  this, 
nippering  and  fleeting  up,  they  lifted  the  fore- 
hatch  and  forecastle  scuttle  out  of  water 
—  which  was  enough.  Before  this  another 
gang  had  been  able  to  slip  the  other  chain 
to  position  abaft  the  mizzenmast,  hook  on  the 
tackle,  and  lead  the  fall  through  a  snatch- 
block  at  the  quarter-bitts  forward  to  the  mid 
ship  capstan.  Disdaining  the  diving-suit, 
they  swam  down  nine  feet  to  do  these  things, 
and  when  they  had  towed  the  rope  forward 
they  descended  seven  feet  to  wind  it  around 
the  capstan  and  ship  the  bars,  which  they 
found  in  a  rack  at  the  mainmast. 

A  man  in  the  water  weighs  practically  no 
thing,  and  to  heave  around  a  capstan  under 
water  requires  lateral  resistance.  To  secure 
this  they  dived  with  hammers  and  nails,  and 
fastened  a  circle  of  cleats  to  catch  their  feet. 
Then  with  a  boy  on  the  main  fife-rail  (his  head 
out)  holding  slack,  eighteen  men  —  three  to 
a  bar — would  inhale  all  the  air  their  lungs 
could  hold,  and,  with  a  "  One,  two,  three," 
would  flounder  down,  push  the  capstan  around 


254    NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE   DEVIL  DRIVES 

a  few  pawls,  and  come  up  gasping,  and  blue  in 
the  face,  to  perch  on  their  bars  and  recover. 
It  went  slowly,  this  end,  but  in  three  days 
more  they  could  walk  around  with  their  heads 
above  water. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  they  were 
entitled  to  rest ;  but  the  flavor  of  wealth  had 
entered  their  souls,  and  they  petitioned  the 
captain  for  privilege  to  work,  which  was 
granted,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  officers,  and 
against  the  vigorous  protest  of  Mr.  Todd,  who 
had  prepared  a  sermon  and  borrowed  clean 
linen  from  Mr.  Shack  in  which  to  deliver  it. 

With  luff-tackles  on  the  fall  they  hove  the 
stern  up  until  the  cabin  doors  and  all  deck- 
openings  but  the  main-hatch  were  out  of 
water,  and  then,  with  the  bark  hanging  to 
the  sheers  as  a  swinging-cradle  hangs  from 
its  supports,  some  assisted  the  carpenter  and 
his  mates  in  building  up  and  calking  an  up 
ward  extension  of  the  main-hatch  coaming 
that  reached  above  water  at  high  tide,  while 
others  went  over  the  side  looking  for  the  shot- 
holes  of  eight  broadsides.  These,  when 
found,  were  covered  with  planking,  followed 
by  canvas,  nails  being  driven  with  shackles, 
sounding-leads,  and  stones  from  the  bottom 
in  the  hands  of  naked  men  clinging  to 
weighted  stagings  —  men  whose  eyes  pro 
truded,  whose  lungs  ached,  whose  brains  were 
turning. 

Then,  and  before  a  final  inspection  by  the 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN   THE  DEVIL  DRIVES     255 

boatswain  in  the  diving-suit  assured  them 
that  the  last  shot-hole  was  covered,  they  be 
gan  bailing  from  the  main-hatch,  and  when 
the  water  perceptibly  lowered  —  the  first  in 
dex  of  success  —  a  feverish  yell  arose  and 
continued,  while  nude  lunatics  wrestled  and 
floundered  waist-deep  on  the  flooded  deck. 
The  bark's  pumps  were  manned  and  worked 
under  water,  bailing-pumps  —  square  tubes 
with  one  valve  —  were  made  and  plunged  up 
and  down  in  each  hatch,  whips  were  rigged, 
and  buckets  rose  and  fell  until  the  obstruct 
ing  cargo  confined  the  work  to  the  bark's 
pumps.  Can-hooks  replaced  the  buckets  on 
the  whips,  then  boxes  and  barrels  were  hoisted, 
broken  into,  and  thrown  overboard,  until  the 
surface  of  the  bay  was  dotted  with  them. 
They  drifted  back  and  forth  with  the  tide, 
some  stranding  on  the  beach,  others  floating 
seaward  through  the  inlet.  And  all  the  time 
that  they  worked,  sharp  eyes  had  watched 
through  the  bushes,  and  a  few  miles  inland, 
in  a  glade  surrounded  by  the  giant  trees  of 
the  Brazilian  forest,  red-shirted  men  lolled 
and  smoked  and  grew  fat,  while  they  dis 
cussed  around  the  central  fire  the  qualities 
of  barbecued  wild  oxen,  roast  opossum  and 
venison,  and  criticized  the  seamanship  of  the 
Englishmen. 

With  a  clear  deck  to  work  on,  every  man 
and  boy  of  the  brig's  crew,  except  the  idlers 
(stewards,  cooks,  and  servants),  was  requisi- 


256    NEEDS  MUST  WHEN   THE  DEVIL  DRIVES 

tioned,  and  boxes  flew  merrily ;  but  night 
closed  down  on  the  tenth  day  of  their  labor 
without  sign  of  the  treasure,  and  now  Mr.  Todd, 
who  had  noticed  a  shade  of  testiness  in  the 
queries  of  the  officers  as  to  the  exact  location 
of  the  gold  and  diamonds,  expressed  a  desire 
to  climb  the  rigging  next  afternoon,  a  feat  he 
had  often  wished  to  perform,  which  he  did 
clumsily,  going  through  the  lubber's  hole, 
and  seated  in  the  maintop  with  Mr  Duncan's 
Bible,  he  remained  in  quiet  meditation  and 
apparent  reading  and  prayer  until  the  tropic 
day  changed  to  sudden  twilight  and  dark 
ness,  and  the  hysterical  crew  returned.  Then 
he  came  down  to  dinner. 

In  the  morning  the  work  was  resumed, 
and  more  boxes  sprinkled  the  bay.  They 
drifted  up  with  the  flood,  and  came  back  with 
the  ebb-tide;  but  among  them  now  were 
about  forty  others,  unobserved  by  Captain 
Bunce,  pacing  his  quarter-deck,  but  noted 
keenly  by  Mr.  Todd.  These  forty  drifted 
slowly  to  the  offshore  side  of  the  brig  and 
stopped,  bobbing  up  and  down  on  the  crisp 
waves,  even  though  the  wind  blew  briskly 
with  the  tide,  and  they  should  have  gone  on 
with  the  others.  It  was  then  that  Captain 
Bunce  stepped  below  for  a  cigar,  and  it  was 
then  that  Mr.  Todd  became  strangely  ex 
cited,  hopping  along  the  port-rail  and  throw 
ing  overboard  every  rope's  end  within  reach, 
to  the  wonder  and  scandal  of  an  open-eyed 


NEEDS  MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL  DRIVES     257 

steward  in  the  cabin  door,  who  immediately 
apprised  the  captain. 

Captain  Bunce,  smoking  a  freshly  lit  cigar, 
emerged  to  witness  a  shocking  sight  —  the 
good  and  godly  Mr.  Todd,  with  an  intense  ex 
pression  on  his  somber  countenance,  holding 
a  match  to  a  black  pipe  and  puffing  vigor 
ously,  while  through  the  ports  and  over  the 
rail  red-shirted  men,  dripping  wet  and  scowl 
ing,  were  boarding  his  brig.  Each  man  car 
ried  a  cutlass  and  twelve-inch  knife,  and  Cap 
tain  Bunce  needed  no  special  intelligence  to 
know  that  he  was  tricked. 

One  hail  only  he  gave,  and  Mr.  Todd,  his 
pipe  glowing  like  a  hot  coal,  was  upon  him. 
The  captain  endeavored  to  draw  his  sword, 
but  sinewy  arms  encircled  him ;  his  cigar  was 
removed  from  his  lips  and  inserted  in  the 
mouth  of  Mr.  Todd  alongside  the  pipe ;  then 
he  was  lifted,  spluttering  with  astonishment 
and  rage,  borne  to  the  rail  and  dropped  over 
board,  his  sword  clanking  against  the  side 
as  he  descended.  When  he  came  to  the  sur 
face  and  looked  up,  he  saw  through  a  cloud 
of  smoke  on  the  rail  the  lantern-jaws  of  Mr. 
Todd  working  convulsively  on  pipe  and  cigar, 
and  heard  the  angry  utterance :  "  Yes,  d — n 
ye,  I  smoke."  Then  a  vibrant  voice  be 
hind  Mr.  Todd  roared  out:  "Kill  nobody  — 
toss  'em  overboard,"  and  the  captain  saw  his 
servants,  cooks,  and  stewards  tumbling  over 
to  join  him. 
17 


258     NEEDS   MUST  WHEN  THE  DEVIL  DRIVES 

Captain  Bunce  turned  and  swam  —  there 
was  nothing  else  to  do.  Soon  he  could  see 
a  black-eyed,  black-mustached  man  on  his 
quarter-deck  delivering  orders,  and  he  recog 
nized  the  thundering  voice,  but  none  of  the 
cockney  accent  of  Captain  Quirk.  Men  were 
already  on  the  yards  loosing  canvas ;  and  as 
he  turned  on  his  back  to  rest  —  for,  though 
fleshy  and  buoyant,  swimming  in  full  uniform 
fatigued  him  —  he  saw  his  anchor-chains 
whizzing  out  the  hawse-pipes. 

He  was  picked  up  by  the  first  boat  to  put 
off  from  the  bark,  and  ordered  pursuit;  but 
this  was  soon  seen  to  be  useless.  The  clean- 
lined  brig  had  sternway  equal  to  the  best 
speed  of  the  boats,  and  now  head-sails  were 
run  up,  and  she  paid  off  from  the  shore. 
Topsails  were  sheeted  home  and  hoisted,  she 
gathered  way,  and  with  topgallantsails  and 
royals,  spanker  and  staysails,  following  in 
quick  succession,  the  beautiful  craft  hummed 
down  to  the  inlet  and  put  to  sea,  while  yells 
of  derision  occasionally  came  back  to  the 
white-faced  men  in  the  boats. 

A  month  later  the  rehabilitated  old  bark 
also  staggered  out  the  entrance,  and,  with  a 
naked,  half-starved  crew  and  sad-eyed,  dilapi 
dated  officers,  headed  southward  for  Rio  de 
Janeiro. 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK 


"  Thrice  is  he  armed  that  hath  his  quarrel  just." 

BARD  OF  AVON. 

"But  4  times  he  who  gits  hiz  bio*  in  fust." 

JOSH  BILLINGS. 


CAPTAIN  WILLIAM  BELCHIOR  was 

^  more  than  a  martinet.  He  was  known 
as  "  Bucko"  Belchior  in  every  port  where  the 
English  language  is  spoken,  having  earned 
this  prefix  by  the  earnest  readiness  with 
which,  in  his  days  as  second  and  chief  mate, 
he  would  whirl  belaying-pins,  heavers,  and 
handspikes  about  the  decks,  and  by  his  suc 
cess  in  knocking  down,  tricing  up,  and  work 
ing  up  sailors  who  displeased  him.  With  a 
blow  of  his  fist  he  had  broken  the  jaw  of  a 
man  helplessly  ironed  in  the  'tween-deck,  and 
on  the  same  voyage,  armed  with  a  simple 
belaying-pin,  had  sprung  alone  into  a  circle 
of  brandishing  sheath-knives  and  quelled  a 
mutiny.  He  was  short,  broad,  beetle-browed, 
and  gray-eyed,  of  undoubted  courage,  but 
with  the  quality  of  sympathy  left  out  of  his 
nature. 

259 


260      WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK 

During  the  ten  years  in  which  he  had  been 
in  command,  he  was  relieved  of  much  of  the 
executive  work  that  had  made  him  famous 
when  he  stood  watch,  but  was  always  ready 
to  justify  his  reputation  as  a  "  bucko"  should 
friction  with  the  crew  occur  past  the  power  of 
his  officers  to  cope  with.  His  ship,  the  Wil 
mington,  a  skysail-yard  clipper,  was  rated 
by  sailormen  as  the  "hottest"  craft  under 
the  American  flag,  and  Captain  Belchior  him 
self  was  spoken  of  by  consuls  and  commis 
sioners,  far  and  near,  as  a  man  peculiarly 
unfortunate  in  his  selection  of  men  ;  for  never 
a  passage  ended  but  he  was  complainant 
against  one  or  more  heavily  ironed  and  badly 
used-up  members  of  his  crew. 

His  officers  were,  in  the  language  of  one  of 
these  defendants,  "  o'  the  same  breed  o'  dorg." 
No  others  could  or  would  sign  with  him.  His 
crews  were  invariably  put  on  board  in  the 
stream  or  at  anchorage — never  at  the  dock. 
Drunk  when  coerced  by  the  boarding-mas 
ters  into  signing  the  ship's  articles,  kept  drunk 
until  delivery,  they  were  driven  or  hoisted 
up  the  side  like  animals  —  some  in  a  stupor 
from  drink  or  drugs,  some  tied  hand  and 
foot,  struggling  and  cursing  with  returning 
reason. 

Equipped  thus,  the  Wilmington,  bound  for 
Melbourne,  discharged  her  tug  and  pilot  off 
Sandy  Hook  one  summer  morning,  and,  with 
a  fresh  quartering  wind  and  raising  sea, 


WHEN   GREEK   MEETS   GREEK  261 

headed  for  the  southeast.  The  day  was  spent 
in  getting  her  sail  on,  and  in  the  "  licking 
into  shape  "  of  the  men  as  fast  as  they  re 
covered  their  senses.  Oaths  and  missiles 
flew  about  the  deck,  knock-downs  were  fre 
quent,  and  by  eight  bells  in  the  evening, 
when  the  two  mates  chose  the  watches, — 
much  as  boys  choose  sides  in  a  ball  game, — 
the  sailors  were  well  convinced  that  their 
masters  lived  aft. 

Three  men,  long-haired  fellows,  sprawling 
on  the  main-hatch,  helpless  from  seasickness, 
were  left  to  the  last  in  the  choosing  and  then 
hustled  into  the  light  from  the  near-by  gal 
ley  door  to  be  examined.  They  had  been 
dragged  from  the  forecastle  at  the  mate's  call 
for  "  all  hands." 

"  Call  yourselves  able  seamen,  I  suppose," 
he  said  with  an  oath,  as  he  glared  into  their 
woebegone  faces. 

"  No,  pard,"  said  the  tallest  and  oldest  of 
the  three,  in  a  weak  voice.  "  We  're  not  sea 
men  ;  we  don't  know  how  we  got  here, 
neither." 

The  mate's  answer  was  a  fist-blow  under 
the  ear  that  sent  the  man  headlong  into  the 
scuppers,  where  he  lay  quiet. 

"Say  'sir'  when  you  speak  to  me,  you 
bandy-legged  farmers,"  he  snarled,  glowering 
hard  at  the  other  two,  as  they  leaned  against 
the  water-tank.  "  I  'm  pard  to  none  of  ye." 

They  made  him  no  answer,  and  he  turned 


262  WHEN   GREEK  MEETS   GREEK 

away  in  contempt.  "  Mr.  Tomm,"  he  called, 
"want  these  Ethiopians  in  your  watch?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  second  mate ;  "  I  don't 
want  'em.  They  're  no  more  use  'an  a  spare 
pump." 

"  I  '11  make  'em  useful  'fore  I  'm  done  with 
'em.  Go  forrard,  you  three.  Get  the  bile 
out  o'  yer  gizzards  'fore  mornin',  'f  ye  value 
yer  good  looks."  He  delivered  a  vicious 
kick  at  each  of  the  two  standing  men,  bawled 
out,  "  Relieve  the  wheel  an'  lookout — that  '11 
do  the  watch,"  and  went  aft,  while  the  crew 
assisted  the  seasick  men  to  the  forecastle  and 
into  three  bedless  bunks  —  bedless,  because 
sailors  must  furnish  their  own,  and  these  men 
had  been  shanghaied. 

The  wind  died  away  during  the  night,  and 
they  awoke  in  the  morning  with  their  seasick 
ness  gone  and  appetites  ravenous.  Somber  and 
ominous  was  their  bearing  as  they  silently  ate 
of  the  breakfast  in  the  forecastle  and  stepped 
out  on  deck  with  the  rest  in  answer  to  the 
mate's  roar:  "All  hands  spread  dunnage." 
Having  no  dunnage  but  what  they  wore,  they 
drew  off  toward  the  windlass  and  conferred 
together  while  chests  and  bags  were  dragged 
out  on  deck  and  overhauled  by  the  officers  for 
whisky  and  sheath-knives.  What  they  found 
of  the  former  they  pocketed,  and  of  the  latter, 
tossed  overboard. 

"  Where  are  the  canal-drivers  ?  "  demanded 
the  chief  mate,  as  he  raised  his  head  from  the 


WHEN   GREEK   MEETS   GREEK  263 

last  chest.  "  Where  are  our  seasick  gentlemen, 
who  sleep  all  night  —  what  —  what — "  he 
added  in  a  stutter  of  surprise. 

He  was  looking  down  three  eight-inch  bar 
rels  of  three  heavy  Colt  revolvers,  cocked,  and 
held  by  three  scowling,  sunburnt  men,  each 
of  whom  was  tucking  with  disengaged  left 
hand  the  corner  of  a  shirt  into  a  waistband, 
around  which  was  strapped  a  belt  full  of 
cartridges. 

"  Hands  up ! "  snapped  the  tall  man  ; 
"  hands  up,  every  one  of  ye  !  Up  with  'em  — 
over  yer  heads.  That 's  right !  "  The  pistols 
wandered  around  the  heads  of  the  crowd,  and 
every  hand  was  elevated. 

"  What  's  this  ?  What  d'  ye  mean  ?  Put 
them  pistols  down.  Give  'em  up.  Lay  aft, 
there,  some  o'  ye,  and  call  the  captain,"  blus 
tered  the  mate,  with  his  hands  held  high. 

Not  a  man  stirred  to  obey.  The  scowling 
faces  looked  deadly  in  earnest. 

"Right  about,  face!"  commanded  the  tall 
man.  "  March,  every  man — back  to  the 
other  end  o'  the  boat.  Laramie,  take  the 
other  side  and  round  up  anybody  ye  see. 
Now,  gentlemen,  hurry." 

Away  went  the  protesting  procession,  and, 
joined  by  the  carpenter,  sail-maker,  donkey- 
man,  and  cook,  "  rounded  up"  from  their 
sanctums  by  the  man  called  Laramie,  it  had 
reached  the  main-hatch  before  the  captain, 
pacing  the  quarter-deck,  was  aware  of  the 


264  WHEN    GREEK   MEETS   GREEK 

disturbance.  With  Captain  Belchior  to  think 
was  to  act.  Springing  to  the  cabin  skylight, 
he  shouted:  "  Steward,  bring  up  my  pistols. 
Bear  a  hand.  Lower  your  weapons,  you 
scoundrels;  this  is  rank  mutiny." 

A  pistol  spoke,  and  the  captain's  hat  left 
his  head.  "There  goes  your  hat,"  said  a 
voice;  "now  for  a  button."  Another  bullet 
sped,  which  cut  from  his  coat  the  button  near 
est  his  heart.  "  Come  down  from  there  — 
come  down,"  said  the  voice  he  had  heard. 
"  Next  shot  goes  home.  Start  while  I  count 
three.  One  —  two — "  Captain  Belchior 
descended  the  steps.  "  Hands  up,  same  as 
the  rest."  Up  went  the  captain's  hands; 
such  marksmanship  was  beyond  his  philoso 
phy.  "Tache,"  went  on  the  speaker,  "go 
up  there  and  get  the  guns  he  wanted."  The 
steward,  with  two  bright  revolvers  in  his 
hands,  was  met  at  the  companion-hatch  by  a 
man  with  but  one  ;  but  that  one  was  so  big, 
and  the  hand  which  held  it  was  so  steady,  that 
it  was  no  matter  of  surprise  that  he  obeyed 
the  terse  command,  "  Fork  over,  handles 
first."  The  captain's  nickel-plated  pistols 
went  into  the  pockets  of  Tache's  coat,  and 
the  white-faced  steward,  poked  in  the  back 
by  the  muzzle  of  that  big  firearm,  marched  to 
the  main-deck  and  joined  the  others. 

"  Go  down  that  place,  Tache,  and  chase  out 
any  one  else  ye  find,"  called  the  leader  from 
behind  the  crowd.  "  Bring  'em  all  down  here." 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK      265 

Tache  descended,  and  reappeared  with  a 
frightened  cabin-boy,  whom,  with  the  man  at 
the  wheel,  he  drove  before  him  to  the  steps. 
There  was  no  wind,  and  the  ship  could  spare 
the  helmsman. 

"Now,  then,  gentlemen,"  said  the  tall 
leader,  "  I  reckon  we  're  all  here.  Keep  yer 
hands  up.  We  '11  have  a  powwow.  Tache, 
stay  up  there,  and  you,  Laramie,  cover  'em 
from  behind.  Plug  the  first  man  that  moves." 

He  mounted  the  steps  to  the  quarter-deck, 
and,  as  he  replaced  empty  shells  with  car 
tridges,  looked  down  on  them  with  a  serene 
smile  on  his  not  ill-looking  face.  His  voice, 
except  when  raised  in  accents  of  command, 
had  in  it  the  musical,  drawling,  plaintive  tone 
so  peculiar  to  the  native  Texan  —  and  so  de 
ceptive.  The  other  two,  younger  and  rougher 
men,  looked,  as  they  glanced  at  their  victims 
through  the  sights  of  the  pistols,  as  though 
they  longed  for  the  word  of  permission  to  rid 
dle  the  ship's  company  with  bullets. 

"  You  '11  pay  for  this,  you  infernal  cut 
throats,"  spluttered  the  captain.  "This  is 
piracy." 

"  Don't  call  any  names  now,"  said  the  tall 
man;  "'t  ain't  healthy.  We  don't  want  to 
hurt  ye,  but  I  tell  ye  seriously,  ye  never  were 
nearer  death  than  ye  are  now.  It  's  a  risky 
thing,  and  a  foolish  thing,  too,  gentlemen, 
to  steal  three  American  citizens  with  guns 
under  their  shirts,  and  take  'em  so  far  from 


266  WHEN   GREEK   MEETS   GREEK 

land  as  this.  Hangin'  's  the  fit  and  proper 
punishment  for  hoss-stealin',  but  man-stealin'  's 
so  great  a  crime  that  I  'm  not  right  sure  what 
the  punishment  is.  Now,  we  don't  know 
much  'bout  boats  and  ropes, —  though  we  can 
tie  a  hangman's  knot  when  necessary, —  but 
we  do  know  somethin'  'bout  guns  and  human 
natur'  —  here,  you,  come  'way  from  that  fence." 

The  captain  was  edging  toward  a  belaying- 
pin ;  but  he  noticed  that  the  speaker's  voice 
had  lost  its  plaintiveness,  and  three  tubes 
were  looking  at  him.  He  drew  inboard,  and 
the  leader  resumed : 

"  Now,  fust  thing,  who  's  foreman  o'  this 
outfit?  Who  's  boss?" 

"  I  'm  captain  here." 

"You  are?  You  are  not.  I  'm  captain. 
Get  up  on  that  shanty."  The  small  house 
over  the  mizzen-hatch  was  indicated,  and 
Captain  Belchior  climbed  it.  The  tubes  were 
still  looking  at  him. 

"  Now,  you,  there,  you  man  who  hit  me 
last  night  when  I  was  sick,  who  are  you,  and 
what?" 

"  Mate,  d you." 

"  Up  with  you,  and  don't  cuss.  You  did  a 
cowardly  thing,  pardner  —  an  unmanly  thing 
—  low  down  and  or'nary.  You  don't  deserve 
to  live  any  longer ;  but  my  darter,  back  East 
at  school,  thinks  I  've  killed  enough  men  for 
one  lifetime,  and  mebbe  she  's  right  —  mebbe 
she's  right.  Anyhow,  she  don't  like  it,  and 


WHEN   GREEK   MEETS   GREEK  267 

that  lets  you  out  —  though  I  won't  answer  for 
Tache  and  Laramie  when  my  back  's  turned 
You  kicked  'em  both.  But  I  '11  just  return 
the  blow."  The  mate  had  but  straightened 
up  on  top  of  the  hatch-house  when  the  terrible 
pistol  spat  out  another  red  tongue,  and  his 
yell  followed  the  report,  as  he  clapped  his 
hand  to  the  ear  through  which  the  bullet 
had  torn. 

"  Hands  up,  there  !  "  thundered  the  shooter, 
and  the  mate  obeyed,  while  a  stream  of  blood 
ran  down  inside  his  shirt-collar. 

''Any  more   bosses   here?" 

The  second  mate  did  not  respond ;  but 
Tache's  pistol  sought  him  out,  and  under  its 
influence,  and  his  guttural,  "  I  know  you  ;  get 
up,"  he  followed  his  superiors. 

"Any  more?" 

A  manly-looking  fellow  stepped  out  of  the 
group,  and  said  :  "You  Ve  got  the  captain  and 
two  mates.  I  'm  bo's'n  here,  and  yonder  's 
my  mate.  We  're  next,  but  we  're  not  bosses 
in  the  way  o'  bein'  responsible  for  anything 
that  has  happened  or  might  happen  to  you. 
We  b'long  forrard.  There  's  no  call  to  shoot 
at  the  crew,  for  there  's  not  a  man  among  'em 
but  what  'ud  be  glad  to  see  you  get  ashore, 
and  get  there  himself." 

"  Silence,  bo's'n,"  bawled  the  captain.  But 
the  voice  of  authority  seemed  pitifully  ludi 
crous  and  incongruous,  coupled  with  the  cap 
tain's  position  and  attitude,  and  every  face  on 


268      WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK 

the  deck  wore  a  grin.  The  leader  noticed  the 
silent  merriment,  and  said  : 

"  Laramie,  I  reckon  these  men  '11  stand. 
You  can  come  up  here.  I  'm  gettin'  'long  in 
years,  and  kind  o'  steadyin'  down,  but  I  s'pose 
you  and  Tache  want  some  fun.  Start  yer 
whistle  and  turn  loose." 

Up  the  steps  bounded  Laramie,  and,  with  a 
ringing  whoop  as  a  prelude,  began  whistling 
a  clear,  musical  trill,  while  Tache,  growling 
out,  "  Dance,  dance,  ye  white-livered  coyotes," 
sent  a  bullet  through  the  outer  edge  of  the 
chief  mate's  boot-heel. 

"  Dance,"  repeated  Laramie  between  bars 
of  the  music.  Crack,  crack,  went  the  pis 
tols,  while  bullets  rattled  around  the  feet  of 
the  men  on  the  hatch,  and  Laramie's  whistle 
rose  and  fell  on  the  soft  morning  air. 

The  sun,  who  has  looked  on  many  scanda 
lous  sights,  looked  on  this,  and  hid  his  face 
under  a  cloud,  refusing  to  witness.  For  never 
before  had  the  ethics  of  shipboard  life  been  so 
outrageously  violated.  A  squat  captain  and 
two  six-foot  officers,  nearly  black  in  the  face 
from  rage  and  exertion,  with  hands  clasped 
over  their  heads,  hopped  and  skipped  around 
a  narrow  stage  to  the  accompaniment  of  pistol 
reports  harmoniously  disposed  among  the 
notes  of  a  whistled  tune,  while  bullets  grazed 
their  feet,  and  an  unkempt,  disfigured,  and 
sore-headed  crew  looked  on  and  chuckled. 
When  the  mate,  weak  from  loss  of  blood,  fell 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK      269 

and  rolled  to  the  deck,  the  leader  stopped  the 
entertainment. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  he  said  in  his  serious 
voice,  "  I  'm  called  Pecos  Tom,  and  I  Ve 
had  considerable  experience  in  my  time,  but 
this  is  my  fust  with  human  creatur's  so  weak 
and  thoughtless  that  they  '11  drug  and  steal 
three  men  without  takin'  their  guns  away 
from  them.  And  so,  on  'count  o'  this  shiftless 
improvidence,  I  reckon  this  boat  will  have  to 
turn  round  and  go  back." 

They  bound  them,  rolled  and  kicked  the 
two  mates  to  the  rail,  lifted  the  captain  to  his 
feet,  and  then  the  leader  said  significantly : 

"  Give  the  right  and  proper  order  to  yer 
men  to  turn  this  boat  round." 

With  his  face  working  convulsively,  Captain 
Belchior  glanced  at  his  captors,  at  his  eager, 
waiting  crew,  at  the  wheel  without  a  helms 
man,  at  a  darkening  of  the  water  on  the 
starboard  bow  to  the  southward,  up  aloft, 
and  back  again  at  the  three  frowning  muzzles 
so  close  to  his  head. 

"  One  hand  to  the  wheel !  Square  in  main 
and  cro'-jack  yards  !"  he  called.  He  was  con 
quered. 

With  a  hurrah  which  indicated  the  sincerity 
of  these  orders,  the  crew  sprang  to  obey  them, 
and  with  foreyards  braced  to  starboard  and 
head-sheets  flat,  the  ship  Wilmington  paid 
off,  wore  around,  and  bringing  the  young 
breeze  on  the  port  quarter,  steadied  down  to 


270  WHEN   GREEK  MEETS   GREEK 

a  course  for  Sandy  Hook,  which  the  captain, 
with  hands  released,  but  still  under  the  influ 
ence  of  those  threatening  pistols,  worked  out 
from  the  mate's  dead-reckoning.  Then  he 
was  pinioned  again,  but  allowed  to  pace  the 
deck  and  watch  his  ship,  while  the  two  officers 
were  kept  under  the  rail,  sometimes  stepped 
upon  or  kicked,  and  often  admonished  on  the 
evil  of  their  ways. 

Early  passengers  on  the  East  River  ferry 
boats  were  treated  to  a  novel  sight  next  morn 
ing,  which  they  appreciated  according  to  their 
nautical  knowledge.  A  lofty  ship,  with  sky- 
sails  and  royals  hanging  in  the  buntlines,  and 
jibs  tailing  ahead  like  flags,  was  charging  up 
the  harbor  before  a  humming  southerly  breeze, 
followed  by  an  elbowing  crowd  of  puffing, 
whistling,  snub-nosed  tugs.  It  was  noticeable 
that  whenever  a  fresh  tug  arrived  alongside, 
little  white  clouds  left  her  quarter-deck,  and 
that  tug  suddenly  sheered  off  to  take  a  posi 
tion  in  the  parade  astern.  Abreast  of  Gov 
ernor's  Island,  topgallant-halyards  were  let 
go,  as  were  those  of  the  jibs ;  but  no  cluing 
up  or  hauling  down  was  done,  nor  were  any 
men  seen  on  her  forecastle-deck  getting  ready 
lines  or  ground-tackle.  She  passed  the  Bat 
tery  and  up  the  East  River,  craft  of  all  kinds 
getting  out  of  her  way, —  for  it  was  obvious 
that  something  was  wrong  with  her, —  until, 
rounding  slowly  to  a  starboard  wheel,  with 
canvas  rattling  and  running-gear  in  bights,  she 


WHEN  GREEK  MEETS  GREEK      271 

headed  straight  for  a  slip  partly  filled  with 
canal-boats.  Now  her  topsail-halyards  were 
let  go,  and  three  heavy  yards  came  down  by 
the  run,  breaking  across  the  caps  ;  and  amid  a 
grinding,  creaking,  and  crashing  of  riven  tim 
bers,  and  a  deafening  din  of  applauding  tug 
whistles,  she  plowed  her  way  into  the  nest 
of  canal-boats  and  came  to  a  stop. 

Then  was  a  hejira.  Down  her  black  sides 
by  ropes  and  chain-plates,  to  the  wrecked  and 
sinking  canal-boats, —  some  with  bags  or 
chests,  some  without, —  came  eager  men,  who 
climbed  to  the  dock,  and  answering  no  ques 
tions  of  the  gathering  crowd  of  dock-loun 
gers,  scattered  into  the  side-streets.  Then 
three  other  men  appeared  on  the  rail,  who 
shook  their  fists,  and  swore,  and  shouted  for 
the  police,  calling  particularly  for  the  appre 
hension  of  three  dark-faced,  long-haired  fel 
lows  with  big  hats. 

In  the  light  of  later  developments  it  is 
known  that  the  police  responded,  and  with  the 
assistance  of  boarding-house  runners  gathered 
in  that  day  nearly  all  of  this  derelict  crew, — 
even  to  the  cautious  boatswain, —  who  were 
promptly  and  severely  punished  for  mutiny 
and  desertion.  But  the  later  developments 
failed  to  show  that  the  three  dark- faced  men 
were  ever  seen  again. 


PRIMORDIAL 


RASPING,  blue  in  the  face,  half  drowned, 
vT  the  boy  was  flung  spitefully  —  as  though 
the  sea  scorned  so  poor  a  victory  —  high  on 
the  sandy  beach,  where  succeeding  shorter 
waves  lapped  at  him  and  retired.  The  en 
circling  life-buoy  was  large  enough  to  permit 
his  crouching  within  it.  Pillowing  his  head 
on  one  side  of  the  smooth  ring,  he  wailed 
hoarsely  for  an  interval,  then  slept  —  or 
swooned.  The  tide  went  down  the  beach, 
the  typhoon  whirled  its  raging  center  off  to 
sea,  and  the  tropic  moon  shone  out,  lighting 
up,  between  the  beach  and  barrier  reef,  a 
heaving  stretch  of  oily  lagoon  on  which  ap 
peared  and  disappeared  hundreds  of  shark- 
fins  quickly  darting,  and,  out  on  the  barrier 
reef,  perched  high,  yet  still  pounded  by  the 
ocean  combers  raised  by  the  storm,  a  frag 
ment  of  ship's  stern  with  a  stump  of  mizzen- 
mast.  The  elevated  position  of  the  fragment, 
the  quickly  darting  dorsal  fins,  and  the  absence 
of  company  for  the  child  on  the  beach  spoke, 
too  plainly,  of  shipwreck,  useless  boats,  and 
horrible  death. 

272 


PRIMORDIAL  273 

Sharks  must  sleep  like  other  creatures,  and 
they  nestle  in  hollows  at  the  bottom  and 
in  coral  caves,  or  under  overhanging  ledges 
of  the  reefs  which  attract  them.  The  first 
swimmer  may  pass  safely  by  night,  seldom 
the  second.  Like  she-wolves,  fiendish  cats, 
and  vicious  horses,  they  have  been  known  to 
show  mercy  to  children.  For  one  or  both 
reasons,  this  child  had  drifted  to  the  beach 
unharmed. 

Anywhere  but  on  a  bed  of  hot  sand  near 
the  equator  the  sleep  in  wet  clothing  of  a 
three-year-old  boy  might  have  been  fatal; 
but  salt  water  carries  its  own  remedy  for  the 
evils  of  its  moisture,  and  he  wakened  at  day 
light  with  strength  to  rise  and  cry  out  his 
protest  of  loneliness  and  misery.  His  child 
ish  mind  could  record  facts,  but  not  their  rea 
son  or  coherency.  He  was  in  a  new,  an  un 
known  world.  His  mother  had  filled  his  old; 
where  was  she  now  ?  Why  had  she  tied  him 
into  that  thing  and  thrown  him  from  her  into 
the  darkness  and  wet?  Strange  things  had 
happened,  which  he  dimly  remembered.  He 
had  been  roused  from  his  sleep,  dressed,  and 
taken  out  of  doors  in  the  dark,  where  there 
were  frightful  crashing  noises,  shoutings  of 
men,  and  crying  of  women  and  other  chil 
dren.  He  had  cried  himself,  from  sympathy 
and  terror,  until  his  mother  had  thrown  him 
away.  Had  he  been  bad  ?  Was  she  angry? 
And  after  that  —  what  was  the  rest  ?  He 

18 


274  PRIMORDIAL 

was  hungry  and  thirsty  now.  Why  did  she 
not  come?  He  would  go  and  find  her. 

With  the  life-buoy  hanging  about  his  waist 
—  though  of  cork,  a  heavy  weight  for  him  — 
he  toddled  along  the  beach  to  where  it  ended 
at  a  massive  ridge  of  rock  that  came  out  of 
the  wooded  country  inland  and  extended  into 
the  lagoon  as  an  impassable  point.  He  called 
the  chief  word  in  his  vocabulary  again  and 
again,  sobbing  between  calls.  She  was  not 
there,  or  she  would  have  come ;  so  he  went 
back,  glancing  fearfully  at  the  dark  woods  of 
palm  and  undergrowth.  She  might  be  in 
there,  but  he  was  afraid  to  look.  H  is  little  feet 
carried  him  a  full  half-mile  in  the  other  direc 
tion  before  the  line  of  trees  and  bushes  reached 
so  close  to  the  beach  as  to  stop  him.  Here 
he  sat  down,  screaming  passionately  and  con 
vulsively  for  his  mother. 

Crying  is  an  expense  of  energy  which  must 
be  replenished  by  food.  When  he  could  cry 
no  longer  he  tugged  at  the  straps  and  strings 
of  the  life-buoy.  But  they  were  wet  and 
hard,  his  little  fingers  were  weak,  and  he 
knew  nothing  of  knots  and  their  untying,  so 
it  was  well  on  toward  midday  before  he  suc 
ceeded  in  scrambling  out  of  the  meshes,  by 
which  time  he  was  famished,  feverish  with 
thirst,  and  all  but  sunstruck.  He  wandered 
unsteadily  along  the  beach,  falling  occasion 
ally,  moaning  piteously  through  his  parched, 
open  lips ;  and  when  he  reached  the  obstruct- 


PRIMORDIAL  275 

ing  ridge  of  rock,  turned  blindly  into  the 
bushes  at  its  base,  and  followed  it  until  he 
came  to  a  pool  of  water  formed  by  a  descend 
ing  spray  from  above.  From  this,  on  his 
hands  and  knees,  he  drank  deeply,  burying 
his  lips  as  would  an  animal. 

Instinct  alone  had  guided  him  here,  away 
from  the  salt  pools  on  the  beach,  and  impelled 
him  to  drink  fearlessly.  It  was  instinct  —  a 
familiar  phase  in  a  child  —  that  induced  him 
to  put  pebbles,  twigs,  and  small  articles  in  his 
mouth  until  he  found  what  was  pleasant  to  his 
taste  and  eatable  —  nuts  and  berries ;  and  it 
was  instinct,  the  most  ancient  and  deeply 
implanted, — the  lingering  index  of  an  arboreal 
ancestry, —  that  now  taught  him  the  safety 
and  comfort  of  these  woody  shades,  and,  as 
night  came  on,  prompted  him  —  as  it  prompts 
a  drowning  man  to  reach  high,  and  leads  a 
creeping  babe  to  a  chair  —  to  attempt  climb 
ing  a  tree.  Failing  in  this  from  lack  of 
strength,  he  mounted  the  rocky  wall  a  few 
feet,  and  here,  on  a  narrow  ledge,  after  in 
dulging  in  a  final  fit  of  crying,  he  slept  through 
the  night,  not  comfortably  on  so  hard  a  bed, 
but  soundly. 

During  the  day,  while  he  had  crawled  about 
at  the  foot  of  the  rocks,  wild  hogs,  marsupial 
animals,  and  wood-rats  had  examined  him 
suspiciously  through  the  undergrowth  and  de 
camped.  As  he  slept,  howling  night-dogs 
came  up,  sniffed  at  him  from  a  safe  distance, 


276  PRIMORDIAL 

and  scattered  from  his  vicinity.  He  would 
have  yielded  in  a  battle  with  a  pugnacious 
kitten,  but  these  creatures  recognized  a  pre 
historic  foe,  and  would  not  abide  with  him. 

A  week  passed  before  he  had  ceased  to  cry 
and  call  for  his  mother ;  but  from  this  on  her 
image  grew  fainter,  and  in  a  month  the  infant 
intelligence  had  discarded  it.  He  ate  nuts  and 
berries  as  he  found  them,  drank  from  the  pool, 
climbed  the  rocks  and  strolled  in  the  wood, 
played  on  the  beach  with  shells  and  fragments 
of  splintered  wreckage,  wore  out  his  clothes, 
and  in  another  month  was  naked;  for  when  but 
tons  and  vital  parts  gave  way  and  a  garment 
fell,  he  let  it  lie.  But  he  needed  no  clothes, 
even  at  night;  for  it  was  southern  summer, 
and  the  northeast  monsoon,  adding  its  humid 
warmth  to  the  radiating  heat  from  the  sun 
baked  rocks,  kept  the  temperature  nearly 
constant. 

He  learned  to  avoid  the  sun  at  midday, 
and,  free  from  contagion  and  motherly  cod 
dling,  escaped  many  of  the  complaints  which 
torture  and  kill  children ;  yet  he  suffered 
frightfully  from  colic  until  his  stomach  was 
accustomed  to  the  change  of  diet,  by  which 
time  he  was  emaciated  to  skin  and  bone. 
Then  a  reaction  set  in,  and  as  time  passed  he 
gained  healthy  flesh  and  muscle  on  the  nitrog 
enous  food. 

Six  months  from  the  time  of  his  arrival, 
another  storm  swept  the  beach.  Pelted  by 


PRIMORDIAL  277 

the  warm  rain,  terror-stricken,  he  cowered 
under  the  rocks  through  the  night,  and  at 
daylight  peered  out  on  the  surf- washed  sands, 
heaving  lagoon,  and  white  line  of  breakers 
on  the  barrier  reef.  The  short-lived  typhoon 
had  passed,  but  the  wind  still  blew  slantingly 
on  the  beach  with  force  enough  to  raise  a  tur 
moil  of  crashing  sea  and  undertow  in  the 
small  bay  formed  by  the  extension  of  the  wall. 
The  fragment  of  ship's  stern  on  the  reef  had 
disappeared;  but  a  half-mile  to  the  right  — 
directly  in  the  eye  of  the  wind  —  was  another 
wreck,  and  somewhat  nearer,  on  the  heaving 
swell  of  the  lagoon,  a  black  spot,  which 
moved  and  approached.  It  came  down  be 
fore  the  wind  and  resolved  into  a  closely 
packed  group  of  human  beings,  some  of 
whom  tugged  frantically  at  the  oars  of  the 
water-logged  boat  which  held  them,  others 
of  whom  as  frantically  bailed  with  caps  and 
hands.  Escorting  the  boat  was  a  fleet  of  dor 
sal  fins,  and  erect  in  the  stern-sheets  was  a 
white-faced  woman,  holding  a  child  in  one 
arm  while  she  endeavored  to  remove  a  circu 
lar  life-buoy  from  around  her  waist.  At  first 
heading  straight  for  the  part  of  the  beach 
where  the  open-eyed  boy  was  watching,  the 
boat  now  changed  its  course  and  by  desperate 
exertion  of  the  rowers  reached  a  position  from 
which  it  could  drift  to  leeward  of  the  point 
and  its  deadly  maelstrom.  With  rowers 
bailing  and  the  white-faced  woman  seated, 


278  PRIMORDIAL 

fastening  the  child  in  the  life-buoy,  the  boat, 
gunwale-deep,  and  the  gruesome  guard  of 
sharks  drifted  out  of  sight  behind  the  point. 
The  boy  had  not  understood ;  but  he  had 
seen  his  kind,  and  from  association  of  ideas 
appreciated  again  his  loneliness  —  crying  and 
wailing  for  a  week ;  but  not  for  his  mother : 
he  had  forgotten  her. 

With  the  change  of  the  monsoon  came  a 
lowering  of  the  temperature.  Naked  and  shel 
terless,  he  barely  survived  the  first  winter, 
tropical  though  it  was.  But  the  second  found 
him  inured  to  the  surroundings  —  hardy  and 
strong.  When  able  to,  he  climbed  trees  and 
found  birds'  eggs,  which  he  accidentally  broke 
and  naturally  ate.  It  was  a  pleasant  relief 
from  a  purely  vegetable  diet,  and  he  became  a 
proficient  egg-thief;  then  the  birds  built  their 
nests  beyond  his  reach.  Once  he  was  sav 
agely  pecked  by  an  angry  brush-turkey  and 
forced  to  defend  himself  It  aroused  a  com- 
bativeness  and  destructiveness  that  had  lain 
dormant  in  his  nature. 

Children  the  world  over  epitomize  in  their 
habits  and  thoughts  the  infancy  of  the  human 
race.  Their  morals  and  modesty,  as  well  as 
their  games,  are  those  of  paleolithic  man, 
and  they  are  as  remorselessly  cruel.  From 
the  day  of  his  fracas  with  the  turkey  he  was 
a  hunter  —  of  grubs,  insects,  and  young  birds  ; 
but  only  to  kill,  maim,  or  torture  ;  he  did 
not  eat  them,  because  hunger  was  satisfied, 


PRIMORDIAL  279 

and  he  possessed  a  child's  dislike  of  radical 
change. 

Deprived  of  friction  with  other  minds,  he 
was  slower  than  his  social  prototype  in  the 
reproduction  of  the  epochs.  At  a  stage  when 
most  boys  are  passing  through  the  age  of 
stone,  with  its  marbles,  caves,  and  slings,  he 
was  yet  in  the  earlier  arboreal  period  —  a 
climber  —  and  would  swing  from  branch  to 
branch  with  almost  the  agility  of  an  ape. 

On  fine,  sunny  days,  influenced  by  the 
weather,  he  would  laugh  and  shout  hilari 
ously  ;  a  gloomy  sky  made  him  morose.  When 
hurt,  or  angered  by  disappointment  in  the 
hunt,  he  would  cry  out  inarticulately;  but 
having  no  use  for  language,  did  not  talk, 
hence  did  not  think,  as  the  term  is  under 
stood.  His  mind  received  the  impressions 
of  his  senses,  and  could  fear,  hate,  and  re 
member,  but  knew  nothing  of  love,  for  no 
thing  lovable  appealed  to  it.  He  could  hardly 
reason,  as  yet ;  his  shadow  puzzled,  angered, 
and  annoyed  him  until  he  noticed  its  concom 
itance  with  the  sun,  when  he  reversed  cause 
and  effect,  considered  it  a  beneficent,  mysteri 
ous  Something  that  had  life,  and  endeavored 
by  gesture  and  grimace  to  placate  and  please 
it.  It  was  his  beginning  of  religion. 

His  dreams  were  often  horrible.  Strange 
shapes,  immense  snakes  and  reptiles,  and 
nondescript  monsters  made  up  of  prehistoric 
legs,  teeth,  and  heads,  afflicted  his  sleep.  He 


280  PRIMORDIAL 

had  never  seen  them ;  they  were  an  inheri 
tance,  but  as  real  to  him  as  the  sea  and  sky, 
the  wind  and  rain. 

Every  six  months,  at  the  breaking  up  of  the 
monsoon,  would  .come  squalls  and  typhoons 
— full  of  menace,  for  his  kindly,  protecting 
shadow  then  deserted  him.  One  day,  when 
about  ten  years  old,  during  a  wild  burst  of 
storm,  he  fled  down  the  beach  in  an  agony 
of  terror ;  for,  considering  all  that  moved  as 
alive,  he  thought  that  the  crashing  sea  and 
swaying,  falling  trees  were  attacking  him, 
and,  half  buried  in  the  sand  near  the  bushes, 
found  the  forgotten  life-buoy,  stained  and 
weather-worn.  It  was  quiescent,  and  new 
to  him, —  like  nothing  he  had  seen, —  and  he 
clung  to  it.  At  that  moment  the  sun  ap 
peared,  and  in  a  short  time  the  storm  had 
passed.  He  carried  the  life-buoy  back  with 
him  —  spurning  and  threatening  his  delin 
quent  shadow  —  and  looked  for  a  place  to  put 
it,  deciding  at  last  on  a  small  cave  in  the  rocky 
wall  near  to  the  pool.  In  a  corner  of  this  he 
installed  the  ring  of  cork  and  canvas,  and  re 
mained  by  it,  patting  and  caressing  it.  When 
it  rained  again,  he  appreciated,  for  the  first 
time,  the  comfort  of  shelter,  and  became  a 
cave-dweller,  with  a  new  god  —  a  fetish,  to 
which  he  transferred  his  allegiance  and  obei 
sance  because  more  powerful  than  his  shadow. 

From  correlation  of  instincts,  he  now  en 
tered  the  age  of  stone.  He  no  longer  played 


PRIMORDIAL  281 

with  shells  and  sticks,  but  with  pebbles,  which 
he  gathered,  hoarded  in  piles,  and  threw  at 
marks, —  to  be  gathered  again, —  seldom  en 
tering  the  woods  but  for  food  and  the  relaxa 
tion  of  the  hunt.  But  with  his  change  of 
habits  came  a  lessening  of  his  cruelty  to  de 
fenseless  creatures, —  not  that  he  felt  pity :  he 
merely  found  no  more  amusement  in  killing 
and  tormenting, —  and  in  time  he  transferred 
his  antagonism  to  the  sharks  in  the  lagoon, 
their  dorsal  fins  making  famous  targets  for  his 
pebbles.  He  needed  no  experience  with  these 
pirates  to  teach  him  to  fear  and  hate  them, 
and  when  he  bathed  —  which  habit  he  ac 
quired  as  a  relief  from  the  heat,  and  indulged 
daily  —  he  chose  a  pool  near  the  rocks  that 
filled  at  high  tide,  and  in  it  learned  to  swim, 
paddling  like  a  dog. 

And  so  the  boy,  blue-eyed  and  fair  at  the 
beginning,  grew  to  early  manhood,  as  hand 
some  an  animal  as  the  world  contains,  tall, 
straight,  and  clean-featured,  with  steady  eyes 
wide  apart,  and  skin  —  the  color  of  old  copper 
from  sun  and  wind  —  covered  with  a  fine,  soft 
down,  which  at  the  age  of  sixteen  had  not 
yet  thickened  on  his  face  to  beard  and  mus 
tache,  though  his  wavy  brown  hair  reached  to 
his  shoulders. 

At  this  period  a  turning-point  appeared  in 
his  life  which  gave  an  impetus  to  his  almost 
stagnant  mental  development — his  food-sup 
ply  diminished  and  his  pebble-supply  gave  out 


282  PRIMORDIAL 

completely,  forcing  him  to  wander.  Pebble- 
throwing  was  his  only  amusement;  pebble- 
gathering  his  only  labor ;  eating  was  neither. 
He  browsed  and  nibbled  at  all  hours  of  the  day, 
never  knowing  the  sensation  of  a  full  stomach, 
and,  until  lately,  of  an  empty  one.  To  this, 
perhaps,  may  be  ascribed  his  wonderful  immu 
nity  from  sickness.  In  collecting  pebbles  his 
method  was  to  carry  as  many  as  his  hands 
would  hold  to  a  pile  on  the  beach  and  go  back 
for  more ;  and  in  the  six  years  of  his  stone- 
throwing  he  had  found  and  thrown  at  the 
sharks  every  stone  as  small  as  his  fist,  within 
a  sector  formed  by  the  beach  and  the  rocky 
wall  to  an  equal  distance  inland.  The  fruits, 
nuts,  edible  roots,  and  grasses  growing  in  this 
area  had  hitherto  supported  him,  but  would  no 
longer,  owing  to  a  drought  of  the  previous 
year,  which,  luckily,  had  not  affected  his  water- 
supply. 

One  morning,  trembling  with  excitement, 
eye  and  ear  on  the  alert, —  as  a  high-spirited 
horse  enters  a  strange  pasture, —  he  ven 
tured  past  the  junction  of  bush  and  tide-mark, 
and  down  the  unknown  beach  beyond.  He 
filled  his  hands  with  the  first  pebbles  he  found, 
but  noticing  the  plentiful  supply  on  the  ground 
ahead  of  him,  dropped  them  and  went  on  ; 
there  were  other  things  to  interest  him.  A 
broad  stretch  of  undulating,  scantily  wooded 
country  reached  inland  from  the  convex  beach 
of  sand  and  shells  to  where  it  met  the  reced- 


PRIMORDIAL  283 

ing  line  of  forest  and  bush  behind  him ;  and 
far  away  to  his  right,  darting  back  and  forth 
among  stray  bushes  and  sand-hummocks,  were 
small  creatures  — -  strange,  unlike  those  he 
knew,  but  in  regard  to  which  he  felt  curiosity 
rather  than  fear. 

He  traveled  around  the  circle  of  beach,  and 
noticed  that  the  moving  creatures  fled  at  his 
approach.  They  were  wild  hogs,  hunted 
of  men  since  hunting  began.  He  entered 
the  forest  about  midday,  and  emerging,  found 
himself  on  a  pebbly  beach  similar  to  his  own, 
and  facing  a  continuation  of  the  rocky  wall, 
which,  like  the  other  end,  dipped  into  the  la 
goon  and  prevented  further  progress.  He 
was  thirsty,  and  found  a  pool  near  the  rocks ; 
hungry,  and  he  ate  of  nuts  and  berries  which 
he  recognized.  Puzzled  by  the  reversal  of 
perspective  and  the  similarity  of  conditions, 
he  proceeded  along  the  wall,  dimly  expecting 
to  find  his  cave.  But  none  appeared,  and,  mys 
tified, — somewhat  frightened, — he  plunged 
into  the  wood,  keeping  close  to  the  wall  and 
looking  sharply  about  him.  Like  an  exiled 
cat  or  a  carrier-pigeon,  he  was  making  a 
straight  line  for  home,  but  did  not  know  it. 

His  progress  was  slow,  for  boulders,  stumps, 
and  rising  ground  impeded  him.  Darkness 
descended  when  he  was  but  half-way  home 
and  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  top  of  the  wall. 
Forced  to  stop,  he  threw  himself  down,  ex 
hausted,  yet  nervous  and  wakeful,  as  any  other 


284  PRIMORDIAL 

animal  in  a  strange  place.  But  the  familiar 
moon  came  out,  shining  through  the  foliage, 
and  this  soothed  him  into  a  light  slumber. 

He  was  wakened  by  a  sound  near  by  that 
he  had  heard  all  his  life  at  a  distance  —  a  wild 
chorus  of  barking.  It  was  coming  his  way, 
and  he  crouched  and  waited,  grasping  a  stone 
in  each  hand.  The  barking,  interspersed  soon 
with  wheezing  squeals,  grew  painfully  loud, 
and  culminated  in  vengeful  growls,  as  a  young 
pig  sprang  into  a  patch  of  moonlight,  with 
a  dozen  dingoes  —  night-dogs  —  at  its  heels. 
In  the  excitement  of  pursuit  they  did  not  no 
tice  the  crouching  boy,  but  pounced  on  the  pig, 
tore  at  it,  snapping  and  snarling  at  one  an 
other,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  meal  was  over. 

Frozen  with  terror  at  this  strange  sight, 
the  boy  remained  quiet  until  the  brutes  began 
sniffing  and  turning  in  his  direction  ;  then  he 
stood  erect,  and  giving  vent  to  a  scream 
which  rang  through  the  forest,  hurled  the  two 
stones  with  all  his  strength  straight  at  the 
nearest.  He  was  a  good  marksman.  Ago 
nized  yelps  followed  the  impact  of  stone  and 
hide ;  two  dogs  rolled  over  and  over,  then, 
gaining  their  feet,  sped  after  their  fleeing 
companions,  while  the  boy  sat  down,  trem 
bling  in  every  limb  —  completely  unnerved. 
Yet  he  knew  that  he  was  the  cause  of  their 
flight.  With  a  stone  in  each  hand,  he  watched 
and  waited  until  daylight,  then  arose  and  went 
on  homeward,  with  a  new  and  intense  emo- 


PRIMORDIAL  285 

tion  —  not  fear  of  the  dingoes :  he  was  the 
superior  animal,  and  knew  it  —  not  pity  for 
the  pig :  he  had  not  developed  to  the  pitying 
stage.  He  was  possessed  by  a  strong,  in 
stinctive  desire  to  emulate  the  dogs  and  eat 
of  animal  food.  It  did  not  come  of  his  empty 
stomach;  he  felt  it  after  he  had  satisfied  his 
hunger  on  the  way ;  and  as  he  plodded  down 
the  slope  toward  his  cave,  gripped  his  missiles 
fiercely  and  watched  sharply  for  small  ani 
mals  —  preferably  pigs. 

But  no  pigs  appeared.  He  reached  his 
cave,  and  slept  all  day  and  the  following 
night,  waking  in  the  morning  hungry,  and 
with  the  memory  of  his  late  adventure  strong 
in  his  mind.  He  picked  up  the  two  stones 
he  had  brought  home,  and  started  down  the 
beach,  but  stopped,  came  back,  and  turned 
inland  by  the  wall ;  then  he  halted  again  and 
retraced  his  steps  —  puzzled.  He  pondered 
awhile, —  if  his  mental  processes  may  be  so 
termed, —  then  walked  slowly  down  the  beach, 
entered  the  bush  a  short  distance,  turned 
again  to  the  wall,  and  gained  his  starting- 
point.  Then  he  reversed  the  trip,  and  com 
ing  back  by  way  of  the  beach,  struck  inland 
with  a  clear  and  satisfied  face.  He  had  solved 
the  problem  —  a  new  and  hard  one  for  him  — 
that  of  two  roads  to  a  distant  place  ;  and  he 
had  chosen  the  shortest. 

In  a  few  hours  he  reached  his  late  camp 
ing-spot,  and  crouched  to  the  earth,  listen- 


286  PRIMORDIAL 

ing  for  barking  and  squealing  —  for  a  pig 
to  be  chased  his  way.  But  dingoes  hunt 
only  by  night,  and  unmolested  pigs  do  not 
squeal.  Impatient  at  last,  he  went  on  through 
the  forest  in  the  direction  from  which  they 
had  come,  until  he  reached  the  open  country 
where  he  had  first  seen  them ;  and  here, 
rooting  under  the  bushes  at  the  margin  of  the 
wood,  he  discovered  a  family  —  a  mother  and 
four  young  ones  —  which  had  possibly  con 
tained  the  victim  of  the  dogs.  He  stalked 
them  slowly  and  cautiously,  keeping  bushes 
between  himself  and  them,  but  was  seen  by  the 
mother  when  about  twenty  yards  away.  She 
sniffed  suspiciously,  then,  with  a  warning  grunt 
and  a  scattering  of  dust  and  twigs,  scurried 
into  the  woods,  with  her  brood — all  but  one — 
in  her  wake. 

A  frightened  pig  is  as  easy  a  target  as  a 
darting  dorsal  fin,  and  a  fat  suckling  lay  kicking 
convulsively  on  the  ground.  He  hurried  up, 
the  hunting  gleam  bright  in  his  eyes,  and  hurled 
the  second  stone  at  the  little  animal.  It  still 
kicked,  and  he  picked  up  the  first  stone,  think 
ing  it  might  be  more  potent  to  kill,  and 
crashed  it  down  on  the  unfortunate  pig's 
head.  It  glanced  from  the  head  to  the  other 
stone  and  struck  a  spark  —  which  he  noticed. 

The  pig  now  lay  still,  and  satisfied  that  he 
had  killed  it,  he  tried  to  repeat  the  carom, 
but  failed.  Yet  the  spark  had  interested 
him, —  he  wanted  to  see  it  again, —  and  it  was 


PRIMORDIAL  287 

only  after  he  had  reduced  the  pig's  head  to  a 
pulp  that  he  became  disgusted  and  angrily 
threw  the  stone  in  his  hand  at  the  one  on  the 
ground.  The  resulting  spark  delighted  him. 
He  repeated  the  experiment  again  and  again, 
each  concussion  drawing  a  spark,  and  finally 
used  one  stone  as  a  hammer  on  the  other, 
with  the  same  result  —  to  him,  a  bright  and 
pretty  thing,  very  small,  but  alive,  which  came 
from  either  of  the  dead  stones.  Tired  of  the 
play  at  last,  he  turned  to  the  pig  —  the  food 
that  he  had  yearned  for. 

It  was  well  for  him,  perhaps,  that  the  initial 
taste  of  bristle  and  fat  prevented  his  taking 
the  second  mouthful.  Slightly  nauseated,  he 
dropped  the  carcass  and  turned  to  go,  but  im 
mediately  bounded  in  the  air  with  a  howl  of 
pain.  His  left  foot  was  red  and  smarting. 
Once  he  had  cut  it  on  a  sharp  shell,  and  now 
searched  for  a  wound,  but  found  none.  Rub 
bing  increased  the  pain.  Looking  on  the 
ground  for  the  cause,  he  discovered  a  waver 
ing,  widening  ring  of  strange  appearance,  and 
within  it  a  blackened  surface  on  which  rested 
the  two  stones.  They  were  dry  flint  nodules, 
and  he  had  set  fire  to  the  grass  with  the 
sparks. 

Considering  this  to  be  a  new  animal  that 
had  attacked  him,  he  pelted  it  with  stones, 
dancing  around  it  in  a  rage  and  shouting 
hoarsely.  He  might  have  conquered  the  fire 
and  never  invoked  it  again,  had  not  the  sup- 


288  PRIMORDIAL 

ply  of  stones  in  the  vicinity  given  out,  or  those 
he  had  used  grown  too  hot  to  handle ;  for  he 
stayed  the  advancing  flame  at  one  side.  But 
the  other  side  was  creeping  on,  and  he  used 
dry  branches,  dropping  to  his  hands  and  knees 
to  pound  the  fire,  fighting  bravely,  crying  out 
with  pain  as  he  burned  himself,  and  forced  to 
drop  stick  after  stick  which  caught  fire.  Soon 
it  grew  too  hot  to  remain  near,  and  he  stood 
off  and  launched  fuel  at  it,  which  resulted  in 
a  fair-sized  bonfire ;  then,  in  desperation  and 
fear,  he  hurled  the  dead  pig  —  the  cause  of 
the  trouble — at  the  terrible  monster,  and  fled. 
Looking  back  through  the  trees  to  see  if 
he  was  pursued,  he  noticed  that  the  strange 
enemy  had  taken  new  shape  and  color  ;  it  was 
reaching  up  into  the  air,  black  and  cloud-like. 
Frightened,  tired  mentally  and  physically, 
and  suffering  keenly  from  his  burns,  he  turned 
his  back  on  the  half-solved  problem  and  en 
deavored  to  satisfy  his  hunger.  But  he  was 
on  strange  territory  and  found  little  of  his 
accustomed  food ;  the  chafing  and  abrading 
contact  of  bushes  and  twigs  irritated  his  sore 
spots,  preventing  investigation  and  rapid 
progress,  and  at  the  end  of  three  hours,  still 
hungry,  and  exasperated  by  his  torment  into 
a  reckless,  fighting  mood,  he  picked  up  stones 
and  returned  savagely  to  battle  again  with  the 
enemy.  But  the  enemy  was  dead.  The  grass 
had  burned  to  where  it  met  dry  earth,  and  the 
central  fire  was  now  a  black-and-white  pile  of 


PRIMORDIAL  289 

still  warm  ashes,  on  which  lay  the  charred  and 
denuded  pig,  giving  forth  a  savory  odor.  Cau 
tiously  approaching,  he  studied  the  situation, 
then,  yielding  to  an  irresistible  impulse,  seized 
the  pig  and  ran  through  the  woods  to  the 
wall  and  down  to  his  cave. 

Two  hours  later  he  was  writhing  on  the 
ground  with  a  violent  stomach-ache.  It  was 
forty-eight  hours  after  when  he  ate  again,  and 
then  of  his  old  food  —  nuts  and  berries.  But 
the  craving  returned  in  a  week,  and  he  again 
killed  a  pig,  but  was  compelled  to  forego  eat 
ing  it  for  lack  of  fire. 

Though  he  had  discovered  fire  and  cooked 
food,  his  only  conception  of  the  process,  so 
far,  was  that  the  mysterious  enemy  was  too 
powerful  for  him  to  kill,  that  it  would  eat  sticks 
and  grass  but  did  not  like  stones,  and  that  a 
dead  pig  could  kill  it,  and  in  the  conflict  be 
made  eatable.  It  was  only  after  months  of 
playing  with  flints  and  sparks  that  he  recog 
nized  the  part  borne  by  dry  grass  or  moss, 
and  that  with  these  he  could  create  it  at  will ; 
that  a  dead  pig,  though  always  improved  by 
the  effort,  could  not  be  depended  upon  to  kill 
it  unless  the  enemy  was  young  and  small, — 
when  stones  would  answer  as  well, —  and  that 
he  could  always  kill  it  himself  by  depriving  it 
of  food. 

It  is  hardly  possible  that  animal  food  pro 
duced  a  direct  effect  on  his  mind ;  but  the 
effort  to  obtain  it  certainly  did,  arousing  his 
19 


290  PRIMORDIAL 

torpid  faculties  to  a  keener  activity.  He 
grasped  the  relation  of  cause  to  effect — see 
ing  one,  he  looked  for  the  other.  He  noticed 
resemblances  and  soon  realized  the  common 
attributes  of  fire  and  the  sun ;  and,  as  his 
fetish  was  not  always  good  to  him, —  the  sun 
and  storm  seeming  to  follow  their  own  sweet 
will  in  spite  of  his  unspoken  faith  in  the  life 
buoy, —  he  again  became  an  apostate,  trans 
ferring  his  allegiance  to  the  sun,  of  which  the 
friendly  fire  was  evidently  a  part  or  symbol. 
He  did  not  discard  his  dethroned  fetish  com 
pletely  ;  he  still  kept  it  in  his  cave  to  punch, 
kick,  and  revile  by  gestures  and  growls  at 
times  when  the  sun  was  hidden,  retaining  this 
habit  from  his  former  faith.  The  life-buoy 
was  now  his  devil  —  a  symbol  of  evil,  or  what 
was  the  same  to  him  —  discomfort ;  for  he  had 
advanced  in  religious  thought  to  a  point  where 
he  needed  one.  Every  morning  when  the 
sun  shone,  and  at  its  reappearance  after  the 
rain,  he  prostrated  himself  in  a  patch  of  sun 
light —  this  and  the  abuse  of  the  life-buoy 
becoming  ceremonies  in  his  fire-worship. 

In  time  he  became  such  a  menace  to  the 
hogs  that  they  climbed  the  wall  at  the  high 
ground  and  disappeared  in  the  country  be 
yond.  And  after  them  went  the  cowardly 
dingoes  that  preyed  on  their  young.  Rodent 
animals,  more  difficult  to  hunt,  and  a  species 
of  small  kangaroo  furnished  him  occupation 
and  food  until  they,  too,  emigrated,  when  he 


PRIMORDIAL  291 

was  forced  to  follow ;  he  was  now  a  carnivo 
rous  animal,  no  longer  satisfied  with  vegetable 
food. 

The  longer  hunts  brought  with  them  a  dif 
ficulty  which  spurred  him  to  further  invention. 
He  could  carry  only  as  many  stones  as  his 
hands  would  hold,  and  often  found  himself  far 
from  his  base  of  supply,  with  game  in  sight, 
and  without  means  to  kill  it.  The  pouch  in 
which  the  mother  kangaroo  carried  her  young 
suggested  to  his  mind  a  like  contrivance  for 
carrying  stones.  Since  he  had  cut  his  foot 
on  the  shell,  he  had  known  the  potency  of  a 
sharp  edge,  but  not  until  he  needed  to  remove 
charred  and  useless  flesh  from  his  food  did  he 
appreciate  the  utility.  It  was  an  easy  advance 
for  him  roughly  to  skin  a  female  kangaroo  and 
wear  the  garment  for  the  pocket's  sake.  But 
it  chafed  and  irritated  him  ;  so,  cutting  off  the 
troublesome  parts  little  by  little,  he  finally  re 
duced  it  to  a  girdle  which  held  only  the  pouch. 
And  in  this  receptacle  he  carried  stones  for 
throwing  and  shells  for  cutting,  his  expedi 
tions  now  extending  for  miles  beyond  the 
wall,  and  only  limited  by  the  necessity  of  re 
turning  for  water,  of  which,  in  the  limestone 
rock,  there  were  plenty  of  pools  and  trickling 
springs. 

He  learned  that  no  stones  but  the  dry  flints 
he  found  close  to  the  wall  would  strike  sparks  ; 
but,  careless,  improvident,  petulant  child  of 
nature  that  he  was,  he  exhausted  the  supply, 


292  PRIMORDIAL 

and  one  day,  too  indolent  to  search  his  hunt 
ing-tracts  to  regain  the  necessary  two,  he  en 
deavored  to  draw  fire  from  a  pair  that  he  dug 
from  the  moist  earth,  and  failing,  threw  them 
with  all  his  strength  at  the  rocky  wall.  One 
of  them  shivered  to  irregular  pieces,  the  other 
parted  with  a  flake  —  a  six-inch  dagger-like 
fragment,  flat  on  one  side,  convex  on  the 
other,  with  sharp  edges  that  met  in  a  point 
at  one  end,  and  at  the  other,  where  lay  the 
cone  of  percussion,  rounded  into  a  roughly 
cylindrical  shape,  convenient  for  handling. 
Though  small,  no  flint-chipping  savage  of  the 
stone  age  ever  made  a  better  knife,  and 
he  was  quick  to  appreciate  its  superiority  to 
a  shell. 

Like  most  discoveries  and  inventions  that 
have  advanced  the  human  race,  his  were,  in 
the  main,  accidental ;  yet  he  could  now  rea 
son  from  the  accidental  to  the  analogous. 
Idly  swinging  his  girdle  around  his  head,  one 
day,  and  letting  go,  he  was  surprised  at  the 
distance  to  which,  with  little  effort,  he  could 
send  the  stone-laden  pouch.  Months  of 
puzzled  experimenting  produced  a  sling  —  at 
first  with  a  thong  of  hide  fast  to  each  stone, 
later  with  the  double  thong  and  pouch  that 
small  boys  and  savages  have  not  yet  im 
proved  upon. 

To  this  centrifugal  force,  which  he  could 
use  without  wholly  understanding,  he  added 
the  factor  of  a  rigid  radius — a  handle  to  a 


PRIMORDIAL  293 

heavy  stone  ;  for  only  with  this  contrivance 
could  he  break  large  flints  and  open  cocoa- 
nuts  —  an  article  of  good  food  that  he  had 
passed  by  all  his  life  and  wondered  at  until 
his  knife  had  divided  a  green  one.  His  ex 
periments  in  this  line  resulted  in  a  heavy, 
sharp-edged,  solid-backed  flint,  firmly  bound 
with  thongs  to  the  end  of  a  stick, —  a  rude 
tomahawk, — convenient  for  the  coup  de  grace. 

The  ease  with  which  he  could  send  a  heavy 
stone  out  of  sight,  or  bury  a  smaller  one  in 
the  side  of  a  hog  at  short  range,  was  wonder 
ful  to  him  ;  but  he  was  twenty  years  old  before, 
by  daily  practice  with  his  sling,  he  brought 
his  marksmanship  up  to  that  of  his  unaided 
hand,  equal  to  which,  at  an  earlier  date,  was 
his  skill  at  hatchet-throwing.  He  could  out 
run  and  tomahawk  the  fastest  hog,  could 
bring  down  with  his  sling  a  kangaroo  on  the 
jump  or  a  pigeon  on  the  wing,  could  smell 
and  distinguish  game  to  windward  with  the 
keen  scent  of  a  hound,  and  became  so  formida 
ble  an  enemy  of  his  troublesome  rivals,  the 
dingoes, —  whose  flesh  he  disapproved  of, — 
and  the  sharks  in  the  lagoon,  that  the  one 
deserted  his  hunting-ground  and  the  other 
seldom  left  the  reef. 

He  broke  or  lost  one  knife  and  hatchet  af 
ter  another,  and  learned,  in  making  new  ones, 
that  he  could  chip  them  into  improved  shape 
when  freshly  dug,  and  that  he  must  allow  them 
to  dry  before  using — when  they  were  also 


294  PRIMORDIAL 

available  for  striking  fire.  He  had  enlarged 
his  pocket,  making  a  better  one  of  a  whole  skin 
by  roughly  sewing  the  edges  together  with 
thongs,  first  curing  the  hide  by  soaking  in 
salt  water  and  scraping  with  his  knife.  His 
food-list  now  embraced  shellfish  and  birds, 
wild  yams,  breadfruit,  and  cocoanuts,  which, 
even  the  latter,  he  cooked  before  eating  and 
prepared  before  cooking.  Pushed  by  an  ever- 
present  healthy  appetite,  and  helped  by  in 
herited  instincts  based  on  the  habits  and 
knowledge  of  a  long  line  of  civilized  ancestry, 
he  had  advanced  in  four  years  from  an  indo 
lent,  mindless  existence  to  a  plane  of  fear 
less,  reasoning  activity.  He  was  a  hunter  of 
prowess,  master  of  his  surroundings,  lord  over 
all  creatures  he  had  seen,  and,  though  still  a 
cave-dweller  when  at  home,  in  a  fair  way  to 
become  a  hut-builder,  herdsman,  and  agricul 
turist  ;  for  he  had  arranged  boughs  to  shelter 
him  from  the  rain  when  hunting,  had  attempted 
to  block  up  the  pass  over  the  wall  to  prevent 
the  further  wanderings  of  a  herd  of  hogs  that 
he  had  pursued,  and  had  lately  become  in 
terested  in  the  sprouting  of  nuts  and  seeds 
and  the  encroachments  and  changes  of  the 
vegetation. 

Yet  he  lacked  speech,  and  did  his  thinking 
without  words.  The  deficiency  was  not  ac 
companied  by  the  unpleasant  twisted  features 
and  grimacing  of  mutes,  which  comes  of  con 
scious  effort  to  communicate.  His  features 


PRIMORDIAL  295 

were  smooth  and  regular,  his  mouth  symmet 
rical  and  firm,  and  his  clear  blue  eye  thought 
ful  and  intent  as  that  of  a  student ;  for  he 
had  studied  and  thought.  He  would  smile 
and  frown,  laugh  and  shout,  growl  and  whine, 
the  pitch  and  timbre  of  his  inarticulate  utter 
ance  indicating  the  emotion  which  prompted 
it  to  about  the  same  degree  as  does  an 
intelligent  dog's  language  to  his  master.  But 
dogs  and  other  social  animals  converse  in  a 
speech  beyond  human  ken  ;  and  in  this  re 
spect  he  was  their  inferior,  for  he  had  not  yet 
known  the  need  of  language,  and  did  not, 
until,  one  day,  in  a  section  of  his  domain  that 
he  had  never  visited  before, —  because  game 
avoided  it, —  down  by  the  sea  on  the  side  of 
the  wall  opposite  to  his  cave,  he  met  a  creature 
like  himself. 

He  had  come  down  the  wooded  slope  on 
the  steady  jog-trot  he  assumed  when  travel 
ing,  tomahawk  in  hand,  careless,  confident, 
and  happy  because  of  the  bright  sunshine 
and  his  lately  appeased  hunger,  and,  as  he 
bounded  on  to  the  beach  with  a  joyous  whoop, 
was  startled  by  an  answering  scream. 

Mingled  with  the  frightful  monsters  in  the 
dreams  of  his  childhood  had  been  transient 
glimpses  of  a  kind,  placid  face  that  he  seemed 
to  know  —  a  face  that  bent  over  him  lovingly 
and  kissed  him.  These  were  subconscious 
memories  of  his  mother,  which  lasted  long 
after  he  had  forgotten  her.  As  he  neared 


296  PRIMORDIAL 

manhood,  strange  yearnings  had  come  to  him 
—  a  dreary  loneliness  and  craving  for  com 
pany.  In  his  sleep  he  had  seen  fleeting  visions 
of  forms  and  faces  like  his  reflection  in  a  pool 
— like,  yet  unlike;  soft,  curving  outlines,  tinted 
cheeks,  eyes  that  beamed,  and  white,  caress 
ing  hands  appeared  and  disappeared  —  frag 
mentary  and  illusive.  He  could  not  distinctly 
remember  them  when  he  wakened,  but  their 
influence  made  him  strangely  happy,  strangely 
miserable  ;  and  while  the  mood  lasted  he  could 
not  hunt  and  kill. 

Standing  knee-deep  in  a  shallow  pool  on 
the  beach,  staring  at  him  with  wide-open  dark 
eyes,  was  the  creature  that  had  screamed  — 
a  living,  breathing  embodiment  of  the  curves 
and  color,  the  softness,  brightness,  and  gentle 
sweetness  that  his  subconsciousness  knew. 
There  were  the  familiar  eyes,  dark  and  lim 
pid,  wondering  but  not  frightened;  two  white 
little  teeth  showing  between  parted  lips;  a 
wealth  of  long  brown  hair  held  back  from  the 
forehead  by  a  small  hand ;  and  a  rounded, 
dimpled  cheek,  the  damask  shading  of  which 
merged  delicately  into  the  olive  tint  that  ex 
tended  to  the  feet.  No  Venus  ever  arose 
from  the  sea  with  rarer  lines  of  beauty  than 
were  combined  in  the  picture  of  loveliness 
which,  backed  by  the  blue  of  the  lagoon,  ap 
peared  to  the  astonished  eyes  of  this  wild  boy. 
It  was  a  girl  —  naked  as  Mother  Eve,  and  as 
innocently  shameless. 


PRIMORDIAL  297 

In  the  first  confusion  of  his  faculties,  when 
habit  and  inherent  propensity  conflicted,  habit 
dominated  his  mind.  He  was  a  huntsman  — 
feared  and  avoided :  here  was  an  intruder. 
He  raised  his  hatchet  to  throw,  but  a  second 
impulse  brought  it  slowly  down ;  she  had 
shown  no  fear  —  no  appreciation  of  what  the 
gesture  threatened.  Dropping  the  weapon 
to  the  ground,  he  advanced  slowly,  the  won 
der  in  his  face  giving  way  to  a  delighted  smile, 
and  she  came  out  of  the  pool  to  meet  him. 

Face  to  face  they  looked  into  each  other's 
eyes  —  long  and  earnestly  ;  then,  as  though 
the  scrutiny  brought  approval,  the  pretty  fea 
tures  of  the  girl  sweetened  to  a  smile,  but  she 
did  not  speak  nor  attempt  to.  Stepping  past 
him,  she  looked  back,  still  smiling,  halted  until 
he  followed,  and  then  led  him  up  to  the  wall, 
where,  on  a  level  with  the  ground,  was  a  hol 
low  in  the  formation,  somewhat  similar  to  his 
cave,  but  larger.  Flowering  vines  grew  at 
the  entrance,  which  had  prevented  his  seeing 
it  before.  She  entered,  and  emerged  imme 
diately  with  a  life-buoy,  which  she  held  before 
him,  the  action  and  smiling  face  indicating  her 
desire  that  he  admire  it. 

The  boy  thought  that  he  saw  his  property 
in  the  possession  of  another  creature,  and  re 
sented  the  spoliation.  With  an  angry  snarl 
he  snatched  the  life-buoy  and  backed  away, 
while  the  girl,  surprised  and  a  little  indig 
nant,  followed  with  extended  hands.  He 


298  PRIMORDIAL 

raised  it  threateningly,  and  though  she  did 
not  cower,  she  knew  intuitively  that  he  was 
angry,  and  feeling  the  injustice,  burst  into 
tears ;  then,  turning  from  him,  she  covered 
her  eyes  with  her  hands  and  crouched  to  the 
ground,  sobbing  piteously. 

The  face  of  the  boy  softened.  He  looked 
from  the  weeping  girl  to  the  life-buoy  and 
back  again  ;  then,  puzzled, —  still  believing  it 
to  be  his  own, — he  obeyed  a  generous  impulse. 
Advancing,  he  laid  the  treasure  at  her  feet ; 
but  she  turned  away.  Sober-faced  and  ir 
resolute,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  he  looked 
around  and  above.  A  pigeon  fluttered  on  a 
branch  at  the  edge  of  the  wood.  He  whipped 
out  his  sling,  loaded  it,  and  sent  a  stone  whizz 
ing  upward.  The  pigeon  fell,  and  he  was 
beneath  it  before  it  reached  the  ground. 
Hurrying  back  with  the  dead  bird,  he  placed 
it  before  her ;  but  she  shuddered  in  disgust 
and  would  not  touch  it.  Off  in  the  lagoon  a 
misguided  shark  was  swimming  slowly  along, 
—  its  dorsal  fin  cutting  the  surface, —  a  full 
two  hundred  yards  from  the  beach.  He  ran 
to  the  water's  edge,  looked  back  once,  flour 
ished  his  sling,  and  two  seconds  later  the  shark 
was  scudding  for  the  reef.  If  she  had  seen, 
she  evidently  was  not  impressed.  He  re 
turned,  picked  up  his  tomahawk  on  the  way, 
idly  and  nervously  fingered  the  pebbles  in  his 
pocket,  stood  a  moment  over  the  sulky  girl, 
and  then  studied  the  life-buoy  on  the  ground. 


PRIMORDIAL  299 

A  light  came  to  his  eyes ;  with  a  final  glance 
at  the  girl  he  bounded  up  the  slope  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  woods. 

Three  hours  later  he  returned  with  his  dis 
carded  fetish,  and  found  her  sitting  upright, 
with  her  life-buoy  on  her  knees.  She  smiled 
gladly  as  he  approached,  then  pouted,  as 
though  remembering.  Panting  from  his  ex 
ertion,  he  humbly  placed  the  faded,  scarred, 
and  misshapen  ring  on  top  of  the  brighter, 
better-cared-for  possession  of  the  girl,  and 
stood,  mutely  pleading  for  pardon.  It  was 
granted.  Smiling  radiantly, —  a  little  ro 
guishly, —  she  arose  and  led  him  again  to  the 
cave,  from  which  she  brought  forth  another 
treasure.  It  was  a  billet  of  wood, —  a  dead 
branch,  worn  smooth  at  the  ends, —  around 
which  were  wrapped  faded,  half- rotten  rags 
of  calico.  Hugging  it  for  a  moment,  she 
handed  it  to  him.  He  looked  at  it  wonder- 
ingly  and  let  it  drop,  turning  his  eyes  upon 
her ;  then,  with  impatience  in  her  face,  she 
reclaimed  it,  entered  the  cave, —  the  boy  fol 
lowing, —  and  tenderly  placed  it  in  a  corner. 

It  was  her  doll.  Up  to  the  borders  of 
womanhood  —  untutored,  unloved  waif  of 
the  woods  —  living  through  the  years  of  her 
simple  existence  alone  —  she  had  lavished 
the  instinctive  mother-love  of  her  heart  on  a 
stick,  and  had  clothed  it,  though  not  herself. 

With  a  thoughtful  little  wrinkle  in  her 
brow,  she  studied  the  face  of  this  new  com- 


300  PRIMORDIAL 

panion  who  acted  so  strangely,  and  he, 
equally  mystified,  looked  around  the  cave.  A 
pile  of  nuts  in  a  corner  indicated  her  house 
wifely  thrift  and  forethought.  A  bed  of  dry 
moss  with  an  evenly  packed  elevation  at  the 
end  —  which  could  be  nothing  but  a  pillow — 
showed  plainly  the  manner  in  which  she  had 
preserved  the  velvety  softness  of  her  skin. 
Tinted  shells  and  strips  of  faded  calico,  ar 
ranged  with  some  approach  to  harmony  of 
color  around  the  sides  and  the  border  of  the 
floor,  gave  evidence  of  the  tutelage  of  the 
bower-birds,  of  which  there  were  many  in 
the  vicinity.  And  the  vines  at  the  entrance 
had  surely  been  planted  —  they  were  far  from 
others  of  the  kind.  In  her  own  way  she  had 
developed  as  fully  as  he.  As  he  stood  there, 
wondering  at  what  he  saw,  the  girl  ap 
proached,  slowly  and  irresolutely ;  then,  rais 
ing  her  hand,  she  softly  pressed  the  tip  of  her 
finger  into  his  shoulder. 

In  the  dim  and  misty  ages  of  the  past,  when 
wandering  bands  of  ape-like  human  beings 
had  not  developed  their  tribal  customs  to  the 
level  of  priestly  ceremonies, —  when  the  medi 
cine-man  had  not  arisen, —  a  marriage  be 
tween  a  man  and  young  woman  was  generally 
consummated  by  the  man  beating  the  girl 
into  insensibility,  and  dragging  her  by  the 
hair  to  his  cave.  Added  to  its  simplicity,  the 
custom  had  the  merit  of  improving  the  race, 
as  unhealthy  and  ill-favored  girls  were  not 


PRIMORDIAL  301 

pursued,  and  similar  men  were  clubbed  out  of 
the  pursuit  by  stronger.  But  the  process  was 
necessarily  painful  to  the  loved  one,  and  her 
female  children  very  naturally  inherited  a  re 
pugnance  to  being  wooed. 

When  a  civilized  young  lady,  clothed  and 
well  conducted,  anticipates  being  kissed  or  em 
braced  by  her  lover,  she  places  in  the  way  such 
difficulties  as  are  in  her  power;  she  gets  behind 
tables  and  chairs,  runs  from  him,  compels  him  to 
pursue,  and  expects  him  to.  In  her  maidenly 
heart  she  may  want  to  be  kissed,  but  she  can 
not  help  resisting.  She  obeys  the  same  in 
stinct  that  impelled  this  wild  girl  to  spring 
from  the  outstretched  arms  of  the  boy  and  go 
screaming  out  of  the  cave  and  down  the 
beach  in  simulated  terror  —  an  instinct  inher 
ited  from  the  prehistoric  mother,  who  fled  for 
dear  life  and  a  whole  skin  from  a  man  behind 
armed  with  a  club  and  bent  upon  marriage. 

Shouting  hoarsely,  the  boy  followed,  in 
what,  if  he  had  been  called  upon  to  classify 
it,  might  have  seemed  to  him  a  fury  of  rage, 
but  it  was  not.  He  would  not  have  harmed 
the  girl,  for  he  lacked  the  tribal  education 
that  induces  cruelty  to  the  weaker  sex.  But 
he  did  not  catch  her  ;  he  stubbed  his  toe  and 
fell,  arising  with  a  bruised  kneecap  which 
prevented  further  pursuit.  Slowly,  painfully, 
he  limped  back,  tears  welling  in  his  eyes  and 
increasing  to  a  copious  flood  as  he  sat  down 
with  his  back  to  the  girl  and  nursed  his  ach- 


302  PRIMORDIAL 

ing  knee.  It  was  not  the  pain  that  brought 
the  tears ;  he  was  •  hardened  to  physical  suf 
fering.  But  his  feelings  had  been  hurt 
beyond  any  disappointment  of  the  hunt  or 
terror  of  the  storm,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  since  his  babyhood  he  wept  —  like  the 
intellectual  child  that  he  was. 

A  soft,  caressing  touch  on  his  head  aroused 
him  and  brought  him  to  his  feet.  She  stood 
beside  him,  tears  in  her  own  eyes,  and  sympa 
thy  overflowing  in  every  feature  of  the  sweet 
face.  From  her  lips  came  little  cooing,  gur 
gling  sounds  which  he  endeavored  to  repeat. 
It  was  their  first  attempt  at  communication, 
and  the  sounds  that  they  used  —  understood 
by  mothers  and  infants  of  all  races  —  were 
the  first  root-words  of  a  new  language.  He 
extended  his  arms,  and  though  she  held  back 
slightly,  while  a  faint  smile  responded  to  his 
own,  she  did  not  resist,  and  he  drew  her 
close  —  forgetting  his  pain  as  he  pressed  his 
lips  to  hers. 


AN  INITIAL 


OP  25  CENTS 


OVERDUE. 


DEC291936 
1J^~SO^I936 


DAY 


LD  21-100m-8,'34 


57559J 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRAR 


